LIBRARY  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 

PRINCETON,   N.  J. 

Presented  by 

TUeJVVic^ovv  of  Greor(^e.T}wdc7\n5'*3<^  . 
Aked,    Charles    F.    1864-1926 
The   courage   of   the   coward 


THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

AND  OTHER   SERMONS 


I'^-T  10  1923 


THE  COURAGE 

OF  THE 

COWARD 

AND    OTHER   SERMONS 


BY   , 

CHARLES  F.  *AKED,  D.D. 

Minister  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  Baptist  Church, 
New  York  City 


New  York  Chicago  Toronto 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 

London     and     Edinburgh 


Copyright,  1907,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York  :  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago  :  80  Wabash  Avenue 
Toronto  :  25  Richmond  St.,W. 
London  :  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh  :      100  Princes  Street 


To 

My  Heroic    Wife 

To  whom 

I  owe  infinite  things 


CONTENTS 

I.  The  Courage  of  the  Coward 

II.  The  Meaning  of  Life's  Vicissitudes 

III.  The  Half  Greater  than  the  Whole 

IV.  The  Ethics  of  Holidays 

V.  The    Noble    Living    and    the    Noble 

Dead  ..... 

VL       The  Judgment  Days  of  God 

VII.  Mary  at  the  Cross 

VIII.  The  Survival  of  the  Unfittest  . 

IX.  The  Most  Popular  Sin  in  the  World 

X.  The  Hands  of  the  Living  God 

XI.  Thunder  and  the  Angel 

XII.  The  Three  Johns  in  John,  the  Three 

Thomases  in  Thomas 

XIII.  The  Serpent  and  the  Rod 

XIV.  The  Acceptance  of  the  Universe 


page 
9 

27 
45 
65 

81 

99 

115 

133 

149 

167 
183 

200 

219 

235 


PREFACE 

The  sermons  contained  in  this  volume  are  all 
"  morning  sermons  " — the  preacher  will  understand 
what  the  phrase  is  intended  to  cover.  They  are 
evangelical,  but  scarcely  evangelistic.  They  are 
in  the  main  addressed  to  those  who  are  already 
more  or  less  closely  attached  to  the  Church.  They 
represent,  with  two  exceptions,  the  preaching  of  a 
few  months,  for  they  followed  each  other  in  almost 
orderly  succession.  Hence,  amid  variety  of  sub- 
ject and  treatment,  there  is  similarity  of  mood. 
For  a  preacher  has  his  moods  like  other  men,  and,  if 
he  is  wise,  he  preaches  out  of  the  mood  of  the  day 
and  the  hour.  If  he  is  living  a  full,  well-rounded 
life  there  is  little  danger  of  monotony,  even  though 
the  mood  holds  him  through  a  year  of  preaching; 
while,  in  the  course  of  his  life's  ministry,  he  will 
speak  as  a  living  man  to  living  men  and  women,  to 
their  every  varying  circumstances  and  needs. 

It  will  happen  that  at  one  time  some  great 
fundamental  truth  of  the  Christian  faith  holds  the 
preacher  in  its  grip;  and  although  he  has  known 
it  and  loved  it  and  preached  it  all  his  life,  yet, 
while  its  domination  lasts,  it  dwarfs  to  his  vision 
truths  of  equal  consequence,  and  the  proclamation 
of  it,  for  a  season,  excludes  phases  of  ministry  not 


PREFACE 

less  desirable.  Then  it  will  happen  that  the  great 
outstanding  doctrines  loom  less  large  for  a  while, 
and  the  preacher  longs  to  speak  simple,  direct, 
comforting,  affectionate  words  to  his  friends,  and 
is  satisfied  if  he  feels  that  he  has  come  close,  heart 
to  heart,  to  the  humblest  amongst  them.  This  is 
so  much  to  the  good.  The  great  truths  have  to  be 
proclaimed,  one  by  one,  over  and  over  again.  The 
kind  and  intimate  words  have  to  be  spoken — and 
happy  the  man  who  can  speak  them  fittingly ! 

These  sermons,  whatever  other  defects  they  may 
have,  are  free  from  pretence  and  affectation. 
They  are  born  of  their  "mood."  They  were 
preached  in  the  months  that  followed  restoration 
to  work  after  an  interruption,  through  illness, 
which  lasted  more  than  a  year.  These  were  days 
when,  after  looking  death  in  the  face,  the  preacher 
had  drawn  very  near  to  God.  And,  without  wear- 
ing liis  heart  upon  his  sleeve,  from  Sunday  to  Sun- 
day he  allowed  the  experience  through  which  he 
had  passed  to  colour  his  preaching.  He  did  not 
pretend  that  a  revelation  from  heaven  had  been 
granted  to  him  which  entitled  him  to  pose  as  the 
author  of  a  new  pocket-gospel  for  mankind.  He 
only  felt  a  little  more  sure  about  the  old  Gospel 
which  it  was  his  business  in  the  world  to  preach. 
He  did  not  dream  that  no  man  had  ever  been  ill 
before  him,  or  that  he  was  the  first  to  discover  that 
there  was  comfort  in  Christ!  But  certain  experi- 
ences had  been  his  which  had  led  him  through  dazed 
wonder  to  settled  peace.  So  he  spoke  to  his 
friends,  spoke  simply,  about  some  of  the  deepest 
things  in  life. 


PREFACE 

There  is,  therefore,  no  screaming  in  this  book, 
no  attitudinising — even  though  to  the  superior 
person  there  may  seem  much  platitudinising — no 
straining  after  effect,  and  no  preaching  merely  be- 
cause Sunday  has  come  round  again  and  a  preach- 
ment of  some  sort  has  to  be  produced.  It  is  quiet 
speech  from  a  man  who  has  suffered  as  millions  of 
better  men  have  suffered  before  him,  and  has  found, 
as  millions  have  found  and  may  still  find,  that — 
absurd  as  it  sounds — one  who  is  no  sentimentalist 
may  "  take  pleasure  in  weaknesses,  in  injuries,  in 
necessities,  in  persecutions,  in  distresses,  for 
Christ's  sake  ",  and  that  for  the  reason  Paul  gives : 
"  when  I  am  weak,  then  am  I  strong". 

New  York  City;  July  1,  1907. 


I 

THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 


O,  friend,  never  strike  sail  to  a  fear!    Come  into  port 
greatly,  or  sail  with  God  the  seas. — Emeeson. 


il 

THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

"  He  that  doeth  the  truth  cometh  to  the  light." 

— JOHK  III.  21. 

The  worst  thing  about  good  people  is  that  they 
are  such  cowards.  We  have  all  assisted,  and 
more  than  once,  at  a  meeting  which  has  been  a 
parable  of  human  life.  It  has  been,  let  us  say, 
a  church  meeting,  a  vestry  meeting,  the  busi- 
ness meeting  of  some  committee  or  political  or- 
ganisation. There  is  sharp  difference  of  opinion, 
and,  perhaps,  some  question  of  principle  involved. 
The  discussion  becomes  unpleasant ;  bitter  things 
are  said;  the  air  is  electric.  What  happens? 
One  by  one  the  best  men  and  women  get  up  and 
leave  the  room.  The  wrong-headed,  the  selfish, 
the  cantankerous,  remain — and  carry  everything 
before  them!  Interrogated  as  to  why  they  left 
the  meeting  in  possession  of  the  awkward  and 
stupid  people,  the  really  nice  people,  who  ought 
to  have  stayed  and  supported  the  right,  always 
answer,  "  Oh,  I  don't  like  that  sort  of  meeting. 
It  distresses  me  too  much.  I  can't  bear  it." 
And  so  the  good  cause  is  lost.  When  we  saw 
this  first  our  souls  sickened  within  us.  It  seemed 
to  us  then,  in  the  days  of  our  strong  young  man- 
hood, that  "  a  shameful  and  horrible  thing  had 

11 


12  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

come  to  pass  in  the  land,"  and  we  wondered 
"  what  we  should  do  in  the  end  thereof " ! 
Since  those  days  we  have  learned  to  contemplate 
it  in  less  turbulent  mood.  The  years  that  bring 
the  philosophic  mind  have  at  least  enabled  us 
to  think  of  it  as  of  other  limitations  of  our  good- 
ness— ^limitations  which  we  shall  all  outgrow, 
and  which,  in  this  life  or  in  the  life  to  come, 
will  all  be  done  away  in  Christ.  For,  as  I  say, 
it  is  human  life  In  miniature  which  you  see. 
You  are  looking  at  it  through  the  large  end  of 
the  telescope;  the  figures  are  very  tiny,  but  they 
are  real.  So  many  of  the  best  people  shrink 
from  the  rough  work  which  at  times  has  to  be 
done  for  the  Master.  Christians  have  yet  to  be 
pathfinders,  pioneers,  iconoclasts,  destroyers  of 
the  old,  stern  builders  of  the  new,  grim  fighters 
for  the  truth.  With  trowel  in  hand,  but  with 
sword  on  thigh,  we  build  again  the  walls  of  our 
Jerusalem.  For  the  day  of  the  Lord  is  ever  upon 
us.  And  "  the  meekest  of  saints  can  find  stern 
work  to  do  in  the  day  of  the  Lord  at  hand." 
Yet  it  is  the  meek  saints,  those  who  are  truly  meek 
and  destined  to  inherit  the  earth,  those  who  are 
really  saints,  thrust  forth  to  exercise  sanctifying 
influences  upon  their  fellows,  who  naturally  and 
almost  irresistibly  shrink  from  this  stern  work. 
For  the  senseless  misunderstandings,  the  cruel 
misrepresentations,  the  petty  vindictiveness — 
what  we  call  the  dust  of  controversy,  the  din  of 
conflict — tliey  have  no  taste.  They  find  it  easier 
to    let    the    wrong    thing    be    done    than    brace 


THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD  13 

themselves     for    hand-to-hand     conflict     for     the 
right. 

We  call  these  people  cowards.  Yet  it  seems 
to  me  that  the  courage  of  the  coward  Is  a  mar- 
vellous thing.  There  are  words  which  to  many 
of  us  are  only  words,  and  they  scarcely  convey 
a  meaning  at  all.  To  these  more  timorous  spirits 
they  represent  the  most  awful  facts  of  life  and 
death.  "  Convention,"  "  opinion,"  "  society," 
"  the  world,"  "  precedent,"  "  custom,"  and  the 
like — for  you,  a  scarecrow  which  the  farmer  has 
set  up  in  his  field,  which  you  see  as  you  dash 
past  in  the  express,  would  have  as  much  terror. 
And  you  can  no  more  understand  any  grown 
man  giving  a  second  thought  to  such  trumpery 
considerations  than  you  could  understand  his 
huddling  into  a  corner  and  covering  his  eyes 
with  horror  lest  the  scarecrow  should  shoot  him 
with  the  bent  stick  which  its  maker  has  stuck 
under  its  arm.  Yet  these  terrors  of  public  opinion 
and  public  condemnation  are  real  to  your  neigh- 
bour, to  the  person  who  sits  next  to  you  in  the 
same  pew.  To  assert  an  unpopular  view,  to 
champion  an  unpopular  cause,  to  avow  themselves 
the  disciples  and  friends  of  an  unpopular  teacher 
amid  the  contemptuous  smiles  of  a  fashionable 
and  ignorant  mob,  demands  from  them  as  much 
real  courage  as  many  a  martyr  has  taken  to  the 
stake. 

We  have  been  told  that  if  you  trace  on  the  floor 
a  chalk  circle,  and  put  a  goose  inside  it,  no  induce- 
ment in  the  world  can  prevail  on  the  goose  to 


14  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

cross  the  appalling  line.  He  will  starve  inside 
the  magic  circle,  starve  to  death  within  sight  of 
food,  but  he  will  not  move!  There  are  men  and 
women  who  are  more  goose  than  the  geese. 
These  chalk  marks  of  custom  and  convention 
have  been  traced  for  them  in  circles  of  flame  by 
the  fiery  swords  of  seraphs.  And  they  could 
more  cheerfully  face  the  real  fires  of  martyrdom 
than  brave  the  milk-and-water  persecutions  of 
their  day  and  their  set. 

But  when  at  last  the  shrinking  spirit  nerves 
itself  for  resistance,  for  assertion,  for  public 
declaration  of  faith  and  principle  and  loyalty, 
how  grand  it  all  is!  What  joy  in  heaven  there 
must  be  over  one  delicate,  sensitive  soul  which 
has  put  on  strength  and  stood  forth  bravely  for 
the  right!  How  the  bells  of  heaven  must  ring, 
pealing  forth  a  grander  music  to  the  stars,  over 
the  new-born  courage  of  the  fearful,  than  over 
ninety  and  nine  brave  persons  who  need  no 
transformation ! 

The  hero  of  my  text  is  a  grand,  pathetic  figure. 
He  died  nearly  nineteen  hundred  years  ago,  but 
he  is  alive  now,  and  I  know  him  well.  I  admire 
him  and  pity  him  and  reverence  him  and  con- 
demn him  at  the  same  time.  He  was  not  quite 
a  saint.  He  was  all  but  a  hero.  When  there 
came  to  him  the  prompting,  which  never  comes 
to  any  but  sweet  and  candid  souls,  to  go  out 
and  find  for  himself  what  there  was  of  good  in 
Him  who  was  despised  and  rejected  of  men,  he 
obeyed  the  prompting,  but  so  secretly,  so  furtively, 


THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD  15 

with  such  infinite  precaution  against  discovery, 
that  men  not  one-hundredth  part  as  good  as  he 
have  called  him  coward  ever  since.  When  the 
impulse  came  to  him,  seated  in  honour  in  the 
high  council  of  the  State,  to  assert  the  everlasting 
obligations  of  the  moral  law,  and  either  swing 
his  nation  and  the  world  to  the  side  of  right  for 
ever  or  die  as  a  brave  man  dies  for  God,  he  acted 
on  the  impulse,  but  so  weakly,  with  so  poor  a 
heart,  that  on  him  as  on  his  fellows  rests  to  this 
day  the  real  guilt  of  the  crucifixion.  And  yet 
this  man,  this  craven  hero,  when  the  disciples 
had  forsaken  their  Lord  and  fled,  dares  all,  defies 
all,  risks  all,  takes  his  life  in  his  hands,  and  plays 
a  part  in  the  final  scene  of  the  tragedy  of  Calvary 
for  which  all  who  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  must 
for  ever  praise  him ! 

Let  us  look  a  little  more  closely  at  this  gallant 
coward.  His  name  was  Nicodemus.  He  was  a 
ruler  of  the  Jews.  He  was  a  member  of  the  great 
and  proud  ecclesiastical  court  which  for  so  many 
centuries  represented  all  that  was  haughtiest  and 
strongest  in  the  religion  of  Israel.  This  man  came 
to  Jesus  by  night.  He  made  his  way  from 
Jerusalem  to  Bethany,  found  the  house  of  John, 
the  beloved  disciple,  where  Jesus  was  lodged. 
He  glanced  to  the  right  and  left  up  and  down  the 
narrow  street,  then  drew  his  cloak  more  closely 
round  him,  and  ascended  the  stairs  outside  the 
house  to  the  guest  chamber  on  the  roof  where 
Jesus  was.  Their  conversation  that  night  was 
one  of  the  most  momentous  which  history  records ; 


16     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

and  when  it  was  ended,  and  Jesus  bade  His  guest 
farewell,  with  His  hand  upon  the  old  man's 
shoulder,  His  voice  stern,  but  His  eyes  speaking 
an  infinite  tenderness,  He  said,  "  But  he  that  doeth 
the  truth  cometh  to  the  light."  Nicodemus  left 
Him.     And  it  was  night. 

Later,  the  council  of  which  Nicodemus  was  a 
member  sent  their  military  police  to  arrest  Jesus. 
The  police  returned,  reporting  that  they  had 
failed  to  execute  their  warrant.  They  had  listened 
to  the  preaching  of  this  wondrous  preacher, 
and  had  been  paralysed  by — they  knew  not  what. 
*'  Never  man  spake  like  this  man,"  they  said. 
And  then,  as  the  members  of  the  council 
burst  into  abuse  and  threats,  Nicodemus  tim- 
idly suggested,  "  Doth  our  law  condemn  any  man 
without  first  giving  him  the  opportunity  to  meet 
the  charge  and  state  his  defence  ?  "  only  to  be 
remorselessly  swept  aside  in  the  midst  of  his 
trembling  plea  for  right. 

Yet  this  is  not  all.  Let  us  stand  for  a  moment 
beside  the  Cross.  Priestly  hate  and  popular 
fury  have  done  their  work.  Black  darkness 
has  settled  down  upon  the  hearts  of  all.  The 
soldier's  spear-thrust  has  been  dealt.  The  Lord 
of  Life  is  dead.  Outside  the  walls  of  Jerusalem 
was  a  hideous  ravine  call^  Ge  Hinnom  or 
Geherma,  which  the  Authorised  Version  used  to 
translate  Hell.  It  was  a  place  where  offal  was 
cast,  and  the  carcasses  of  animals,  and  the 
bodies  of  criminals  who  had  been  put  to  death 
and  adjudged  unworthy  of  decent  burial.     It  was 


THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD  17 

the  common  cesspool  of  the  city.  He  was 
numbered  with  transgressors  in  His  death,  and 
His  body  would  have  been  flung  into  this  foul 
Gehenna  but  for  Nicodemus  and  another  one. 
Joseph  of  Arimathaea,  also  a  night-disciple  for 
fear  of  the  Jews,  begged  from  Pilate  the  body  of 
Jesus  that  he  might  take  it  away.  With  him 
came  also  Nicodemus,  bringing  with  him  myrrh 
and  aloes,  the  linen  cloths  and  spices  which  Jewish 
burials  demand.  And  the  last  oflSces  of  love 
and  tenderness  which  men  can  pay  to  our  frail 
mortality  were  discharged  by  Joseph  and  by 
Nicodemus — who  had  come  to  Him  by  night ! 

There  is  not  a  stage  of  the  evolution  of  courage 
in  the  heart  of  Nicodemus  which  we  do  not  recog- 
nise. Step  by  step  how  well  we  know  it  all! 
One  of  our  great  preachers  has  suggested  that 
the  night  scene  related  in  the  third  chapter  of 
John  is  not  really  the  first  in  Gospel  history  in 
which  Nicodemus  has  appeared.  When  the  Temple 
embassy  came  to  John  the  Baptist,  demanding 
the  nature  and  authority  of  his  mission,  and  went 
away  with  their  adverse  report,  this  ruler  of 
Israel  may  have  been  amongst  them.*  And 
perhaps  there  were  inclinations  toward  the  right 
even  then.  But  his  less  tolerant  colleagues  bore 
him  down  with  the  violence  of  their  own  opinions, 
and  his  report  was  theirs.  You  are  at  school, 
at  college,  at  the  university.  Materialism  is 
dominant.  Scepticism,  more  or  less  defined,  is 
in  the  air.  And  though  you  have  not  named 
the  name  of  Christ,  still  there  are  instincts  and 
*Dr.  Whyte:    "  Bible  Characters." 


18     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

feelings  toward  Him  which  stir  your  nature  to 
gentle  protest  against  the  life  which  is  being  lived 
all  round  you.  But  the  pressure  of  your  sur- 
roundings is  too  much.  You  do  as  the  others  do. 
You  speak  as  they  do,  or,  at  most,  refrain  from 
speaking  in  a  contrary  sense.  If  you  do  not 
altogether  feel  as  they  feel — what  matters  .-^ 
You  are  overborne  and  swept  along  by  the 
current  too  strong.  You  sign  the  report  to 
your  Temple — at  most  you  let  judgment  go  by 
default.  Or,  perhaps,  the  talk  in  your  circle 
is  about  some  bill  before  Congress,  some  pro- 
posal of  the  Government,  some  action  of  the 
City  Fathers.  It  is  not  a  question  which  you 
have  studied  deeply,  in  which  you  have  arrived 
at  some  definite  and  firm  conclusion.  But  again 
you  have  an  instinct  that  this  is  wrong,  and  that 
it  should  be  condemned.  But  once  more  you 
are  swayed  by  the  people  round  you.  You  are 
one  in  a  crowd  of  polite  and  foolish  persons ; 
you  cannot  make  yourself  roughly  objectionable 
by  the  obtrusion  of  unusual  opinions  about  which, 
after  all,  you  are  not  really  confident.  Thus  bad 
begins  and  worse  remains  behind. 

Nicodemus  went  to  investigate.  Perhaps  you 
have  gone  so  far.  You  have  heard  the  preaching 
or  read  the  books.  You  have  opened  your  New 
Testament  again.  You  have  prayed  for  strength 
to  see  the  light  and  follow  the  right.  But 
when  you  have  seen  and  understood,  the 
decided  and  deciding  step  would  cost  you  too 
much!      Some    loss     might     be    involved;     som.e 


THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD  19 

inconvenience  would  be.  You  feel  a  kind  of 
shame,  a  bashfulness  about  openly  taking  the 
side  of  right,  which  constrains  you  and  makes 
you  feel  awkward,  and  you  blush  to  think  of 
yourself  facing  the  ordeal  of  public  confession  of 
faith  in  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus.  There  is  still 
some  possibility  of  ridicule.  The  day  of  humilia- 
tion has  not  passed.  And  so  you  turn  away 
while  the  touch  of  Christ  is  yet  upon  your  heart 
and  His  voice  is  in  your  ears,  He  that  doeth  the 
truth  cometh  to  the  light. 

The  third  scene  is  for  ever  re-enacted  in  our 
lives.  The  impulse  has  grown.  The  conviction 
that  right  is  here,  that  right  must  be  done, 
that  right  must  be  defended  and  wrong  defied, 
has  grown  within  you.  The  conviction  is 
struggling  toward  utterance.  And  now  it  finds 
expression,  and  for  your  life  you  cannot  but 
speak  the  thing  which  is  in  your  soul !  Yes ; 
and  how  do  you  speak  it?  Why,  with  bated 
breath  and  whispering  humbleness  and  in  a 
bondman's  key !  And  having  spoken,  you  stand 
like  the  statue  of  Fear  in  the  famous  ode, 
"  Frightened  at  the  sound  yourself  has  made." 
What  is  the  use  of  such  a  poor  little  paltry 
protest  against  current  iniquity,  against  vested 
interests  in  unrighteousness.''  Do  you  think 
that  this  mad  world  will  hear  or  heed  when  you 
venture  so  humbly  to  insinuate  your  feeble 
objection  to  the  course  which  things  are  taking.? 
And  what  becomes  of  you.'*  You  and  your 
opposition  are  soon  swept  away !     High-handed 


20     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

sin  makes  short  work  of  apologetic  interferences. 
And  this  is  the  reproach  against  us.  This  is 
our  sin.  And  this  is  our  great  and  exceeding 
loss  and  the  world's  loss,  too.  There  are  times 
when  you  have  no  right  to  think  or  speak  or 
feel  moderately.  You  shall  not  give  a  moderate 
warning  to  your  neighbour  that  his  house  is  on 
fire,  nor  moderately  rescue  your  child  from 
drowning,  nor  moderately  snatch  your  wife 
from  the  hands  of  ruffians.  You  shall  be  as 
harsh  as  truth  and  as  uncompromising  as  justice. 
You  shall  not  equivocate.  You  shall  not  excuse. 
You  shall  not  draw  back.  And  you  shall  be 
heard.*  My  brother,  stand  up  boldly  for  the 
right  which  you  know  to  be  right,  for  the  truth 
which  you  know  to  be  true.  Follow  light, 
though  the  faintest  beam  falls  upon  your  path; 
follow  light,  until  it  broadens  into  the  perfect 
day.  Do  the  right  in  scorn  of  consequence, 
for  God  is  God.  And  when  a  man  does  the  right 
so  strongly  that  he  counts  his  life  as  of  no  impor- 
tance, his  example  becomes  omnipotent.  It  is 
the  blood  of  the  martyrs  which  is  the  seed  of 
the  Church.  Are  you  waiting,  and  hesitating 
in  your  soul,  and  standing  by,  with  the  good 
impulse  stirring  within  you,  yet  letting  "  I 
dare  not"  wait  upon  "I  would"?  Nay,  do 
nothing  of  this,  for  while  you  wait,  they  are 
crucifying  Christ.  He  that  doeth  the  truth 
cometh  to  the  light. 

And  at  the  last  comes   conquest.     Nicodemus 
triumphed  over  his  coward  fears.     When  Joseph 
*  Lloyd  Garrison  J  first  copy  of  The  Liberator. 


THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD  21 

of  Arimathaga  came  to  beg  the  body  of  Jesus, 
he  came,  too,  to  bury  Him.  Why  did  he  not 
assert  himself  sooner?  Why  did  he  wait  until 
his  Lord  was  dead?  Why  was  he  not  at  the 
Cross?  Why  was  he  not  by  His  side  when  the 
crowd  cried  "Crucify  Him"?  Alas,  why  do 
we  all  wait  until,  were  it  not  for  God's  mercy, 
we  should  be  doomed  to  a  coward's  fate,  should 
live  and  move  and  have  our  being  in  the  hell 
of  a  coward's  remorse  and  a  coward's  despair? 
But  Nicodemus  rose  to  these  grand  heights  at 
last.  From  them  he  looks  down  through  the 
ages  and  beckons  us  in  utter  kindness.  The  day 
is°not  ended  nor  the  story  finished.  There  are  new 
chapters  to  be  added  to  the  Acts  of  Apostles; 
and  when  men  write  them,  your  acts  must  be 
there.  I  plead  with  you  for  the  exercise  of  your 
will,  for  the  expression  of  the  faith  that  is  in 
you,  for  the  courage  wliich  shall  do  the  truth 
and  come  to  the  light. 

"I  do  not  wonder  at  what  men  suffer.  I 
wonder  at  what  men  lose."  Let  us  reckon  up 
the  losses  of  your  fearfuhiess,  in  the  light  of 
Ruskin's  famous  phrase. 

The  -first  loss  is  to  yourself.  And  it  is  the  loss 
of  precisely  those  things  which  you  thought  to 
gain  by  refusing  to  embroil  yourself  in  contro- 
versies and  conflicts.  You  keep  out  of  this 
stormy  struggle  for  the  right  in  order  to  find 
rest  and  peace.  Rest  and  peace  you  will  never 
find  in  servile  acquiescence  as  you  will  find  it  in 
whole-souled  enthusiasm  for  the  right.      I  speak 


22  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

what  I  know.  I  testify  the  deepest  conviction 
of  my  life.  While  the  storms  rage ;  while  you 
fight  with  wild  beasts ;  while  the  thunders  of 
popular  hatred  crash  over  your  head  and  its 
lightnings  dart  through  your  sky ;  while  it 
seems  to  you  in  very  truth  that  Christ  has  come 
to  fling  fire  on  the  earth,  His  deepest  promise  is 
fulfilled,  "  Peace  I  leave  with  you.  My  peace 
I  give  unto  you;  not  as  the  world  giveth,  give 
I  unto  you."  Do  you  beheve  that.''  I  know  that 
it  Is  true. 

When  winds  are  raging  o'er  the  upper  ocean, 
And  billows  wild  contend  with  angry  roar, 

'Tis  said,  far  down  beneath  the  wild  commotion, 
That  peaceful  stillness  reigneth  evermore. 

Far,  far  beneath,  the  noise  of  tempests  dieth. 
And  silver  waves  glide  ever  peacefully. 

And  no  rude  storm,  how  fierce  soe'er  it  flieth. 
Disturbs  the  sabbath  of  that  deeper  sea. 

So  to  the  heart  that  knows  Thy  love,  O  Purest  I 

There  is  a  temple,  sacred  evermore. 
And  all  the  babble  of  life's  angry  voices. 

Dies  in  hushed  stillness  at  its  peaceful  door. 

Do  you  believe  it?  If  not,  try  it!  For  you 
will  catch  your  shadow  and  grasp  it  and  walk 
arm  in  arm  with  it  sooner  than  you  will  find 
the  deepest  peace  and  highest  joy  of  which  your 
nature  is  capable  by  timorous  avoidance  of  duty. 
I  do  not  wonder  at  what  you  suffer.  I  wonder 
at  what  you  lose. 

The  next  loss  is  to  the  men  and  women  like  you. 
There  are  millions  like  you.     Each  one  of  these 


THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD  23 

uncounted  millions  can  be  helped  and  encouraged 
and  inspired  by  the  example  of  other  units  like 
themselves.  "  It  is  certain,"  says  Novalis, 
quoted  by  Carlyle,  "  my  conviction  gains  infi- 
nitely, the  moment  another  soul  will  believe 
in  it."  Infinitely/,  says  Novalis,  and  Carlyle 
adds,  "  it  is  a  boundless  favour."  This  infinite 
gain,  this  boundless  favour,  is  in  your  hands. 
Your  example  will  be  potent  with  another. 
You  are  not  the  man  you  meant  to  be.  You 
have  been  saved  from  the  gross  sins  and  shameful 
disorders  of  life.  And  you  can  carry  your  head 
high.  But  you  are  not  the  man  you  would  have 
liked  to  be.  You  are  not  as  good  a  man  as  you 
meant  to  be.  You  would  like  your  boy  to  be 
a  better  man  than  you.  And  would  it  not  be 
a  help  to  him  if  you  were  plainly  to  declare 
yourself  for  God  and  for  His  Christ?  If  you 
could  break  through  the  hampering  restraints 
of  your  own  timidity  and  through  those  which 
Society  and  Convention  have  fastened  upon  you, 
and  stand  forth  for  the  spiritual  and  the  eternal, 
would  it  be  worse  with  your  boy  and  his  future, 
or  would  it  be  better.?  Is  there  nobody  in  your 
office  and  nobody  in  your  home  whose  life  would 
feel  the  touch  of  yours,  if  yours  became  heroic? 
The  disciple  who  serves  Him  in  secret  is  a  disciple 
still,  thank  God!  But  it  is  loss  to  mankind 
that  he  will  not  serve  Him  openly  in  the  gaze 
of  all. 

Do  you  remember  Ruskin's  last  message  to  the 
world?     It  is  exquisitely  lovely: 


24     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

"  Looking  back  upon  my  efforts  for  the  last 
twenty  years,  I  believe  that  their  failure  has 
been  in  very  great  part  owing  to  my  compromise 
with  the  infidelity  of  this  outer  world,  and  my 
endeavour  to  base  my  pleading  upon  motives  of 
ordinary  prudence  and  kindness,  instead  of 
upon  the  primary  duty  of  loving  God — founda- 
tion other  than  which  no  man  can  lay.  I  thought 
myself  speaking  to  a  crowd  which  could  only  be 
influenced  by  visible  utility;  nor  was  I  in  the 
least  aware  how  many  entirely  good  and  holy 
persons  were  living  in  the  faith  and  love  of  God 
as  vividly  and  practically  now  as  ever  in  the 
early  enthusiasm  of  Christendom,  until,  chiefly 
in  consequence  of  a  great  illness,  I  was  brought 
into  closer  personal  relations  with  the  friends  in 
America,  Scotland,  Ireland,  and  Italy,  to  whom, 
if  I  am  spared  to  write  any  record  of  my  life,  it 
will  be  seen  that  I  owe  the  best  hopes  and  highest 
thoughts  which  have  supported  and  guided  the 
force  of  my  natural  mind.  These  have  shown 
me,  with  lovely  initiation,  in  how  many  secret 
places  the  prayer  is  made  which  I  had  foolishly 
listened  for  at  the  corners  of  the  streets ;  and  on 
how  many  hills  which  I  had  thought  left  desolate, 
the  hosts  of  Heaven  still  moved  in  chariots  of 
fire.  But  surely  the  time  has  come  when  all 
these  faithful  armies  should  lift  up  the  standard 
of  their  Lord — not  by  might  nor  by  power, 
but  by  His  spirit,  bringing  forth  judgment  unto 
victory;  that  they  should  no  more  be  hidden, 
nor  overcome  of  evil,  but  overcome  evil  with  good. 


THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD  25 

If  the  enemy  cometh  in  like  a  flood,  how  much 
more  may  the  rivers  of  Paradise." 

Yes ;  that  is  the  call  to  us :  the  enemy  has 
come  in  like  a  flood;  we  wait  for  the  rivers  of 
Paradise. 

We  must  take  account  of  still  another  loss, 
the  loss  to  the  great  men  who  are  leading  and  teach- 
ing the  nations.  They  need  us,  they  need  every 
one  of  us.  Though  we  do  but  stand  up  to  be 
counted  as  their  followers,  though  we  should 
be  only  as  names  and  numbers  on  the  muster- 
roll  of  their  legions,  yet  is  the  gain  to  them  un- 
speakable. You  can  see  their  craving  for  the 
love  and  loyalty  of  men  and  women  who  will 
believe  in  them  and  avow  their  faith  in  every 
leader's  life,  in  men  so  different  as  Mohammed 
and  Mazzini,  William  the  Silent  and  Washington. 
It  is  a  debt  of  honour  that  we  owe  to  them. 

May  we  not  reverently  add,  it  is  the  loss  of 
Christ?  Suppose  that  on  the  dark  betrayal 
night,  when  members  of  the  Sanhedrim  gathered 
in  haste  at  the  house  of  the  High  Priest,  when 
perjured  witnesses  swore  the  Saviour's  life  away, 
and  amongst  the  crowd  of  murderers  in  sacerdotal 
robes  no  man  was  found  to  venture  all  in  glorious 
defence  of  righteousness,  suppose  that  then 
Nicodemus  had  leaped  forward  to  take  the 
patient  Prisoner's  side!  Though  the  chivalry 
had  been  unavailing,  though  the  brave  man  had 
been  trampled  underfoot,  and  Christ  had  been 
crucified,  amid  the  agony  of  Calvary,  it  seems  to 


26  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

me,  there  would  have  been  in  the  Redeemer's  tor- 
tured soul  the  grateful  memory  of  one  who  had 
dared  and  died  for  Him.  Not  less  joy,  surely, 
fills  the  heart  of  the  Son  of  God  when  you  start 
forward  to  take  His  side,  and  count  the  world 
well  lost  for  Him.  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  whom 
Joseph  of  Arimathaea  and  Nicodemus  buried,  we 
shall  see  on  earth  no  more.  But  the  Christ  of 
God  I  see  in  every  crowded  street.  He  appeals  to 
me  from  every  bed  of  pain.  He  cries  to  me  from 
every  broken  heart.  He  is  Incarnate,  Tangible, 
Visible,  in  every  moral  movement.  He  stretches 
forth  warm  hands  that  cling  and  yearn  for  help 
in  every  great  redemptive  effort  which  glorifies 
our  time,  in  the  Peace  movement,  in  the  Temper- 
ance crusade,  in  the  endeavour  to  realise  in  com- 
mon life  the  Brotherhood  of  Man.  For  the  joy 
that  was  set  before  Him,  He  endured  the  Cross. 
That  joy  let  us  complete,  filling  up  what  remains 
of  the  suffering  of  Christ,  and  carrying  the  Cross 
with  Him !  Live  for  yourself :  you  have  denied 
your  Lord!  But  do  the  truth  and  come  to  the 
light,  and,  even  while  the  old  tremors  shake  your 
limbs  and  whiten  your  lips  and  chill  your  heart, 
speak  the  brave  word,  do  the  brave  deed,  live  the 
brave  life,  confess  Him  openly  before  men,  and 
then  listen  for  His  mighty  word,  "  Him  will  I 
confess  before  My  Father,  Who  is  in  Heaven ! " 


n 


THE   DEEP    MEANING   OF   LIFE'S 
VICISSITUDES 


We  pray  against  the  tempest  and  the  strife, 
The  storm,  the  wliirlwind,  and  the  troublous  hour 

Which  vex  the  fretful  element  of  life. 

Me  rather  save,  O  dread  dispensing  Power, 

From  those  dead  calms,  that  flat  and  hopeless  lull. 
In  which  the  dull  sea  rots  around  the  helpless  bark, 
And  nothing  moves  save  the  sure-creeping  dark 

That  slowl/  settles  o'er  an  idle  hull. 

-—Owen  Meredith. 


n 

THE    DEEP    MEANING    OF    LIFE'S 
VICISSITUDES 

"  In  the  day  of  prosperity  be  joyful,  and  in  the  day  of 
adversity  consider;  God  hath  even  made  the  one  side  by 
side  with  the  other,  to  the  end  that  man  should  not  find  out 
anything  that  shall  be  after  him." — Ecclesiastes  vii.  14. 

"  This  is  the  state  of  man :  to-day  he  puts 
forth  the  tender  leaves  of  hope;  to-morrow 
blossoms  and  bears  his  blushing  honours  thick 
upon  him;  the  third  day  comes  a  frost,  a  killing 
frost;  and — when  he  thinks,  good  easy  man, 
fully  surely  his  greatness  is  ripening — nips  his 
root:  and  then  he  falls!"  These  lines  are 
amongst  the  best  known  in  English  speech,  and 
the  fact  of  which  they  treat  is  perhaps  the  most 
commonplace  in  all  our  commonplace  lives. 
There  is  no  preacher  nor  moralist,  no  poet  nor 
dramatist,  who  has  not  exhausted  the  resources 
of  his  art  in  the  effort  to  bring  out  the  deep 
meaning  of  life's  vicissitudes.  What  preacher 
would  not  fear  to  provoke  a  smile  if  he  set  him- 
self to  discuss  once  more  the  chances  and  changes 
of  human  life.'' 

And  yet,  the  smile  notwithstanding,  it  is  to 
the  consideration  of  this  commonplace  that  our 
text  invites  us. 


30     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

The  Bible  loves  these  dramatic  situations. 
And  as  children  we  have  delighted  in  them.  We 
have  revelled  in  the  stories  of  the  shepherd  boy 
who  killed  a  giant,  became  king,  and  laid  the 
foundations  of  a  famous  monarchy ;  of  a  great 
king  who  was  driven  from  his  palace  into  the 
wilderness  where  he  ate  grass  like  an  ox;  of  the 
lonely  prisoner  who  was  carried  from  his  cell  to 
become  the  lord  of  Egypt;  of  the  noble  who 
was  hanged  on  the  gallows  he  meant  for  his 
foe;  and  of  intriguing  priests  who  were  flung 
into  the  flames  they  had  kindled  for  the  servants 
of  God.  In  our  later  years  we  have  been  charmed 
by  the  swift  transitions  of  Bible  story  from  loveli- 
ness to  terror  and  from  tragedy  to  peace.  We 
open  the  first  page  of  the  Book  of  Life,  and  we 
are  in  a  garden,  with  fruits  and  flowers  and 
sunshine,  with  man  and  woman  living  in  pristine 
innocence  with  companionable  beasts  and  talking 
serpents.  But  very  quickly  the  sunshine  blackens 
and  we  find  ourselves  in  the  presence  of  re- 
proaches, recriminations,  remorse,  tears,  curses, 
and  flaming  swords.  We  turn  to  the  closing 
chapters  of  this  same  Book  of  Life,  and  our 
nerves  tingle  with  the  pain  of  them.  Before 
us  spreads  scene  on  scene  of  ghastly  horror — 
misery,  martyrdom,  massacre;  the  earth  is 
moved,  the  heavens  tremble,  the  sun  and  moon 
are  darkened,  and  the  stars  withdraw  their 
shining.     It  is 

With  hue  like  that  when  some  great  painter  dips 
His  pencil  in  tlie  gloom  of  earthquake  and  eclipse. 


MEANING    OF    LIFE'S    VICISSITUDES     31 

Yet  before  the  Revelation  closes  we  walk  amid 
the  white  robes,  the  palms,  the  crowns,  and 
hear  the  promise  of  a  day  when  there  shall  be 
no  more  sorrow  nor  sighing  nor  pain  nor  death, 
when  God  shall  wipe  the  tear  from  every  eye. 
And  in  still  deeper  mood  we  have  turned  from 
the  rapt  contemplation  of  the  Son  of  Man,  making 
His  triumphal  entry  into  His  royal  city,  while  the 
happy  crowds  cried  their  glad  Hosannas,  to  see, 
yet  veil  our  eyes  that  we  might  not  see,  those 
other  crowds  with  frightful  faces  and  murder  in 
their  hearts,  as  they  yelled  "  Crucify  Him ! 
Crucify  Him ! "  And  the  Lord  of  Life  and  Glory 
dies  upon  a  Cross. 

In  the  history  of  men  and  nations  we  seem  to 
see  the  sportive  fates  playing  such  fantastic 
tricks  with  the  great  and  small  of  earth,  that 
the  centuries  do  but  lead  on  a  procession  of 
masqueraders  from  the  throne  to  the  scaffold 
and  from  the  scaffold  to  the  throne.  The 
vicissitudes  which  we  experience  ourselves,  and 
which  we  observe  in  the  lives  of  men  and  women 
round  us,  are  neither  less  complete,  less  pictur- 
esque, nor  less  momentous. 

In  the  morning  you  go  forth  to  your  life,  like 
one  of  Ruskin's  "  queens  "  to  her  garden,  "  to 
play  Avith  the  fringes  of  its  guarded  flowers  and 
lift  up  their  heads  when  they  are  drooping"; 
and  at  night  you  wander  amid  the  wreck  of 
worlds.  Prosperity  smiles  upon  you;  friendship 
is  beautiful;  and  the  sunshine  is  in  your  heart; 
and  lo,  in  the  twinkling   of  an   eye,   the  stroke 


32     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

of  affliction  has  fallen  upon  you,  and  the  waves 
of  desolation  have  gone  over  your  soul !  One 
day  you  are  rejoicing  in  health,  happiness,  and  the 
pride  of  life;  and  on  the  morrow  you  are  crying 
out  for  pity  to  leaden  skies  which  are  deaf  to 
your  appealing.  Or,  on  the  other  hand,  in  the 
blackest  night  of  the  year,  when  the  stars  have 
all  gone  out,  the  promise  is  fulfilled  to  you  in 
God's  own  way  that  "  at  eventide  there  shall 
be  light."  It  is  a  midnight  sun  which  shines 
upon  you;  in  the  east  is  the  dawning  of  the 
morning,  and  your  horizon  reddens  with  a  glow- 
ing hope.  In  your  path  the  flowers  spring; 
men  and  women  with  open  hands  are  as  the 
legions  of  ministering  Spirits  to  whom  God  has 
given  charge  concerning  you ;  and  the  voices  of 
those  who  love  you  are  as  the  voices  of  the  many- 
sounding  sea. 

Truly,  we  know  not  what  a  day  nor  an  hour 
may  bring  forth,  of  joy  or  of  sorrow,  of  trial  or 
triumph.  We  feel  that  to-day  is  ours ;  we 
remember  that  yesterday  was ;  to-morrow  only 
may  be.  We  remember  what  yesterday  was 
like ;  we  know  what  to-day  is ;  all  that  we  know 
about  to-morrow  is  that  it  will  not  be  like  either. 
And  the  one  thing  that  is  certain  about  the  future 
is,  that  nothing  is  certain  about  it! 

Our  text  deals  with  all  this,  deals  with  it  very 
curiously.  And  it  begins  with  what  seems  a  fine 
piece  of  irrelevance: 

"In  the  day  of  prosperity  be  joyful."     Well, 


MEANING    OF    LIFE'S    VICISSITUDES     33 

that,  you  say,  we  can  very  easily  do !  It  will  be 
no  great  hardship  to  be  joyful  when  we  walk 
in  silver  slippers  in  the  front  rank  of  Fortune's 
favourites!  In  the  day  of  prosperity  be  joyful! 
By  all  means,  we  will  be.  Our  difficulty  up  to 
the  present  time  has  not  been  to  be  joyful  when 
prosperity  has  smiled  upon  us,  but  to  find  the 
prosperity  which  should  bring  us  joy!  If  the 
Preacher  would  tell  us  how  to  behave  ourselves 
wisely  in  a  perfect  way  when  Prosperity  flies 
from  us,  how  to  bear  the  whips  and  scorns  of 
time,  when  "  we  grunt  and  sweat  under  a  weary 
life,'*  we  might  thank  him  for  his  counsel.  But 
we  are  able,  without  assistance,  to  be  sufficiently 
joyful  in  the  day  of  our  Prosperity. 

Is  that  true?  Or  is  it  not  rather  true,  as 
Bishop  Butler  has  told  us  in  his  solemn  way, 
that  "  Prosperity  itself,  while  anything  supposed 
desirable  is  not  ours,  begets  extravagant  and 
unbounded  thoughts,"  and  that  Prosperity  itself 
is  a  real  and  lasting  source  of  danger?  Is  it 
not  a  matter  of  common  observation  that  the 
danger  which  Prosperity  sets  up  is  precisely  this, 
the  danger  of  discontent?  Do  you  not  see 
very  often  that  a  man  who  has  all  that  heart 
could  wish — except  the  heart  to  enjoy  it! — is 
infinitely  less  "joyful,"  less  content,  less  happy 
in  his  lot,  than  some  poor,  labouring,  honest 
fellow  who  scarcely  knows  to-day  where  to- 
morrow's meal  will  come  from,  or  yon  poor 
body  with  her  crowd  of  little  children  who  knows 


34     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWAED 

not  how  to  make  the  two  ends  meet  and  tie? 
Yes,  there  is  reason  in  the  exhortation,  In  the  day 
of  Prosperity  be  joyful. 

But  literally  this  advice  is,  In  the  day  of  good 
he  in  good!  And  perhaps  that  brings  out  the 
meaning  to  us  better  than  a  better  reading 
would.  In  the  day  of  good  be  in  good!  Take 
the  good  the  gods  provide  you ;  take  the  good 
your  Father  gives.  Take  it,  use  it,  enjoy  it, 
be  happy  in  it.  Don't  be  afraid  of  your  happi- 
ness. Don't  think  of  it  as  a  fearful  and  a  won- 
drous thing  which  will  escape  you  as  soon  as  you 
seek  to  grasp  it.  If  God  gives  you  happiness, 
be  happy  in  it;  if  light,  walk  in  the  light;  if 
joy,  enjoy  it!  We  are  sharers  of  the  glorious 
gospel  of  the  happy  God. 

People  are  too  often  afraid  of  happiness.  And 
they  are  afraid  of  admitting  that  they  have 
reason  to  be  happy.  One  of  the  most  famous 
of  living  Scotsmen  tried  the  other  day  to  explain 
to  my  dull  Saxon  comprehension  the  meaning 
of  that  mystic  phrase  "  my  frail  ordinary." 
He  assured  me  that  each  word  was  an  English 
word,  and  that  I  ought  to  understand  it,  and 
then  proceeded  to  expound  the  use  of  it.  In 
answer  to  the  common  salutation,  "  How  do 
you  do?  "  a  big,  robust  son  of  toil  who  has  never 
known  a  day's  illness  in  his  life  will  make  answer, 
"  Weel,  I'm  just  in  my  frail  ordinary !  "  He  is 
afraid  of  admitting  that  he  is  in  splendid  health, 
afraid  that  if  he  did  such  boasting  might  cost 
him    dear.      A  hundred    times    within    the    last 


MEANING    OF    LIFE'S    VICISSITUDES     35 

twelve  months  I  have  heard  the  French  equiva- 
lent for  it.  "  Pas  si  Trial"  your  French  friend 
says  to  you,  and  would  not  for  his  life  admit  that 
"  not  so  bad  "  means  superlatively  well.  While 
if  you  ask  your  most  intimate  friend,  whom 
you  have  not  seen  lately,  "  And  how's  busi- 
ness ?  "  the  very  best  you  will  ever  get  out  of 
liim,  if  he  is  working  night  and  day  and  making 
money  so  fast  that  he  does  not  know  what  to 
do  with  it,  is  "  Well,  I  mustn't  complain." 

It  would  be  nice  to  think  that  all  this  only 
pointed  to  a  modesty  which  was  unable  to  boast 
of  anything,  even  of  God's  good  gifts.  But  it 
points  to  nothing  of  the  kind.  If  we  could  trace 
it  back  we  should  find  that  it  points  away  to  the 
old  notion  about  jealous  gods,  and  to  the  super- 
stition that  they  were  always  waiting  to  pounce 
do\\Ti  upon  you  if  things  were  going  too  well. 
When  the  ancients  felt  themselves  "  too  happy," 
when  all  the  world  conspired  to  bring  them  joy, 
they  dreaded  the  jealousy  of  these  watching 
gods,  and  threw  away  some  precious  thing  to 
turn  the  spite  of  deities.  And  I  am  quite  sure 
you  have  heard  your  grandmother  say,  when 
you  were  young,  "  Yes,  you  are  laughing  this 
morning,  but  you  will  cry  before  night !  "  While 
the  old  blasphemy  is  not  yet  dead,  that  if  you 
love  your  child  too  well,  "  make  an  idol  of  him," 
God,  "  who  is  a  jealous  God,"  will  take  your 
child  from  you,  that  "  you  may  have  no  gods 
before  Him " — the  God  of  Love,  whom  Jesus 
taught  us  to  call  Father,  jealous  of  the  deepest, 


36     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWAED 

highest  virtue  of  our  souls  which  makes  us  likest 
Him! 

In  the  day  of  Prosperity,  be  joyful!  In  the 
day  of  good,  be  in  good!  Love  the  good,  enjoy 
the  good,  and  give  God  thanks.  Fill  your  heart 
with  happiness,  and  walk  in  the  power  of  it. 
Eat  the  flesh,  and  drink  the  sweet,  and  send  por- 
tions to  him  for  whom  nothing  is  prepared; 
and  make  every  day  a  holy  day  unto  your  God, 
for  humour  is  His  gift  as  truly  as  pathos  is,  and 
smiles  are  from  Him  as  well  as  tears. 

But  read  on :  "  In  the  day  of  adversity  con- 
sider." 

And  then  the  Preacher  tells  you  what  to  con- 
sider, according  to  our  Version.  But  it  is  just 
possible  that  really  the  exhortation  stops  there: 
In  the  day  of  adversity,  consider  it  well;  ponder 
the  facts ;  look  carefully ;  find  out  the  meaning 
of  this  adversity,  and  make  the  best  of  it. 

Certainly,  if  the  phrasing  of  the  text  will  bear 
that  meaning,  it  is  sound  and  sensible  advice 
for  us  all.  There  is  no  position  in  life  so  bad 
but  that  we  ought  to  make  the  best  of  it.  And 
the  difference  between  a  strong  soul  and  a  weak 
one  is  here :  that  the  weak  one  submits  to  what 
he  calls  the  "  inevitable,"  accepts  with  the 
faintest  show  of  a  struggle,  and  bows  his  head 
beneath  the  blow.  But  the  strong  man  declares 
that  nothing  is  "  inevitable,"  says  that  the  word 
only  connotes  a  moral  imbecility,  plucks  safety 
from  the  nettle  danger,  and  snatches  victory 
from  the  jaws  of  death.     If  the  day  of  adversity 


MEANING    OF    LIFE'S    VICISSITUDES     37 

is  upon  him,  the  more  reason  for  him  to  keep  his 
eyes  wider  open,  his  wits  more  alert,  and  to  seek 
a  closer  walk  with  God.  ^^ 

"  The  sin  I  impute  to  each    frustrate    ghost,' 
says     Browning,   "is   the   unlit    lamp     and    the 
ungirt  loin."     And   be   very    sure   that    amongst 
our  sins,  yours  and  mine,  will  have  to  be  imputed 
our  criminal  readiness  to  make  the  worst  of  a  bad 
position,  when,  if  we  did  but  lay  hold  on  God, 
we   might   so   easily   make   the  best.      "  Benaiah 
the  son  of  Jeholada,  the  son  of  a  valiant  man, 
who  had   done  mighty   deeds,"    and    knew    that 
what  had  been  done  once  could  be  done  again, 
and  knew  that  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst 
it  was  better  to   die  fighting  than   die  flying— 
"  slew  a  lion  in  the  midst  of  a  pit  in  time  of  snow." 
Slew    a    Hon,  without    a    Winchester    repeating 
rifle,  bilf e  to  throat  and  hands  to  claws ;  in  the 
midst   of   a   pit,  where   there   was     no   place    of 
vantage  to  be  had  for  the  valiant  man;  in  time 
of  snow  when  the  very  elements   fought  against 
him.     A  hard  fight,  in  a  bad  position,  at  a  cruel 
time;    but    the    Benalahs     of    hfe,  the    valiant 
men,   sons   of  valiant  men,  who   themselves  have 
done  mighty  deeds,  will  make  the  best  of  it  all. 

Do  you  remember  how  Emerson  found  this 
to  be  amongst  the  high  virtues  of  Englishmen? 
He  was  In  England  some  fifty  or  sixty  years  ago, 
in  a  time  of  national  depression.  He  brought 
to  the  study  of  Enghsh  manners  and  morals  as 
acute  an  intellect  as  was  to  be  found  on  the  earth 
at  that  time.    And  he  said  that  while  in  prosperity 


38     THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

the  English  were  "  moody  and  dumpish,"  yet  in 
adversity  they  were  "  grand !  "  He  found  in  them 
a  kind  of  instinct  that  they  could  see  better  in 
a  cloudy  day.  In  storm  of  battle  and  calamity 
he  found  in  them  "  a  secret  vigour  and  a  pulse 
like  a  cannon."  This  virtue  of  strong  English- 
men is  worthy  to  be  sought.  In  the  day  of  ad- 
versity— Consider! 

But,  according  to  our  text,  there  is  one  great 
and  special  thing  to  consider.  In  this  great  and 
special  thing  the  Preacher  finds  the  deep  meaning 
of  life's  vicissitudes. 

He  says  that  God  has  made  the  one  side  by 
side  with  the  other ;  and  then  he  alleges  a  reason 
for  God's  plan.  Wait  one  moment  for  the  rea- 
son. Ask,  first,  if  the  fact,  as  he  alleges  it,  is 
a  fact  at  all.  For  he  means  to  say  that  God 
has  balanced  prosperity  and  adversity  pretty 
fairly  in  human  life.  That  joys  and  sorrows  are, 
on  the  whole,  distributed  to  all  people  in  a  fair 
proportion.  That  in  each  individual  life,  sorrow 
is  reasonably  proportioned  to  happiness ;  and  that 
when  life  is  compared  with  life,  the  average  of 
happiness  and  misery  in  one  life  runs  about  level 
with  the  average  of  happiness  and  misery  in  an- 
other. 

Is  that  true? 

It  does  not  look  true.  With  the  first  superficial 
glance  you  would  want  to  sweep  away  such  a  doc- 
trine. But  look  more  deeply  into  life.  It  seems 
too  foolish  to  say  that  the  healthy  and  the  sick, 


MEANING    OF    LIFE'S    VICISSITUDES     39 

the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  honoured  and  the 
humble,  all  find  one  average  of  sorrow  and  joy. 
But  I  believe  that  it  is  true.  There  are  such 
compensations  in  human  life,  and  happiness  and 
unhappiness  are  such  relative  and  temperamental 
things,  that  perhaps  final  justice  is  done  to  all. 
If  you  are  capable  of  exquisite  pleasure,  you  are 
susceptible  to  exquisite  pain.  If  your  ardent 
nature  is  such  that  you  mount  with  wings  of 
eagles  to  the  mountain  peaks  of  rapture,  again 
and  yet  again  you  are  plunged  into  the  Slough 
of  Despond.  And  if,  by  the  very  structure  and 
fibre  of  your  being,  you  find  yourself  unable  to 
soar  to  these  heights  of  joy,  by  the  same  structure 
and  fibre  of  your  being  you  are  saved  from  the 
unspeakable  wretchedness  in  which  another's  soul 
is  overwhelmed. 

There  is  a  fine  passage  in  Emerson  about  this 
subtle  compensation  which  Nature  pays.  I  must 
quote  him  to  you  again,  for  he  has  been  my  com- 
panion in  many  a  lonely  hour : 

"  Dualism  underlies  the  nature  and  condition 
of  man.  Every  excess  causes  a  defect ;  every 
defect  an  excess.  Every  sweet  hath  its  sour ; 
every  evil  its  good.  Every  faculty  which  is  a 
receiver  of  pleasure  has  an  equal  penalty  put  on 
its  abuse.  It  is  to  answer  for  its  moderation 
with  its  life.  For  every  grain  of  wit  there  is  a 
grain  of  folly.  For  everything  you  have  missed 
you  have  gained  something  else ;  and  for  every- 
thing you  gain  you  lose  something.     If  riches  in- 


40  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

crease,  they  are  increased  that  use  them.  If  the 
gatherer  gathers  too  much,  Nature  takes  out  of 
the  man  what  she  puts  into  his  chest;  swells  the 
estate,  but  kills  the  owner.  Nature  hates  mo- 
nopolies and  exceptions.  The  waves  of  the  sea 
do  not  more  speedily  seek  a  level  from  their  loftiest 
tossings  than  the  varieties  of  condition  tend  to 
equalise  themselves.  .  .  .  The  farmer  imagines 
power  and  place  are  fine  things ;  but  the  President 
has  paid  dear  for  his  White  House.  It  has  com- 
monly cost  him  all  his  peace  and  the  best  of  his 
manly  attributes.  To  preserve  for  a  short  time 
so  conspicuous  a  place  before  the  world,  he  is 
content  to  eat  dust  before  the  real  masters  who 
stand  erect  behind  the  throne.  Or  do  men  desire 
the  more  substantial  and  permanent  grandeur  of 
genius.''  Neither  has  this  an  immunity.  He  who 
by  force  of  will  or  of  thought  is  great,  and  over- 
looks thousands,  has  the  charges  of  that  eminence. 
With  every  influx  of  light  comes  new  danger. 
Has  he  light.? — he  must  bear  witness  to  the  light, 
and  always  outrun  the  sympathy  which  gives 
him  such  keen  satisfaction  by  his  fidelity  to 
new  revelations  of  the  incessant  soul.  He  must 
hate  father  and  mother,  wife  and  child.  Has  he 
all  that  the  world  loves  and  admires  and  covets.'' 
— he  must  cast  behind  him  their  admiration,  and 
afflict  them  by  faithfulness  to  his  truth,  and  be- 
come a  by-word  and  a  hissing." 

In  homelier  phrase  an  English  poet  has 
voiced  his  agreement  with  the  American  seer 
and  the  Hebrew  preacher: 


MEANING    OF    LIFE'S    VICISSITUDES     41 

Great  is  the  doctrine  of  equivalents; 
Mighty  and  universal  is  the  law 
Of  compensation — If  we  lose  we  gain, 
And  if  we  gain  we  lose.     So  rolls  the  world. 
The  hand  of  Justice  holds  the  eternal  scale. 
If  we  are  happy  in  the  world's  esteem, 
Perchance  we  have  a  secret  sore  within. 
If  great,  we  may  behold  a  skeleton 
Taking  its  place  behind  us  at  our  board. 
To  give  us  warning  what  the   end  shall  be; 
If  we  are  mean,  we  have  a  comforter 
In  the  conviction  that  we  cannot  fall 
Beneath  the  lowest  depth  at  which  we  lie. 
If  we  are  sane,  we  feel  our  sanity 
In  care,  and  sorrow,  and  perennial  toil. 
If  we  are  mad,  just  Heaven  looks  pitying  down, 
And  sends  us  dreams  that  shame  realities. 

This,  in  effect,  is  the  fact  which  our  text  seeks 
to  bring  out.  God  has  balanced  adversity 
against  prosperity  in  the  world  at  large  and  in 
each  human  life.  But  when  we  come  to  what 
is  stated  to  be  the  reason  of  this  balancing  of 
the  one  against  the  other,  we  move  amongst 
hard  sayings.  It  is  "  to  the  end  that  man  should 
not  find  out  anything  that  shall  be  after  him." 
In  despair  of  bringing  the  obscure  meaning  to 
the  light,  we  attempt  various  interpretations. 
God  has  balanced  adversity  against  prosperity 
in  this  way  so  that,  hiding  the  future  from  you, 
you  shall  not  be  able  to  find  out  anything  that 
shall  be  after  you  have  left  this  earth.  It  is 
foolish  to  scratch  and  save  and  starve  your  soul 
in  the  endeavour  to  pile  up  wealth  for  those  that 
will  come  after  you.  You  cannot  plan  the  future 
of    your    children.     Life    is    played    upon    by    a 


42  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

thousand  currents  and  cross-currents ;  and 
though  you  plan  for  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine 
of  the  possibilities  of  life,  it  is  the  thousandth 
eventuality,  on  which  you  did  not  calculate, 
which  comes  to  throw  all  your  plans  into  confu- 
sion. Nor  can  you  bind  the  thoughts  and  pur- 
poses of  the  generation  which  will  follow.  Aban- 
don your  attempt  to  chain  the  lusty  limbs  of  the 
future's  strong  ones  in  the  dead  fetters  of  bygone 
days.  These,  and  a  score  of  good  reflections,  are 
covered  by  the  wording  of  the  text.  Take  all  in 
a  word: 

You  cannot  know  what  the  future  will  be; 
better  leave  it  in  the  hands  of  God.  Your 
dreams  are  idle.  Your  speculations  are  idle. 
You  must  take  short  views  of  life.  It  is  better 
to  trust  in  the  Lord  than  to  wear  your  heart 
out  in  fret  and  care  and  brooding  desire  to  plan 
a  future  which  mocks  your  planning.  In  the 
day  of  prosperity,  enjoy  your  prosperity  and 
give  God  thanks.  In  the  day  of  adversity,  make 
the  best  of  it,  and  still  give  God  thanks.  It  is 
by  the  special  mercy  of  our  God  that  we  only  live 
one  day  at  a  time !  Never  was  more  precious 
boon  included  in  the  course  and  constitution  of 
this  universe  of  ours !  To-day  you  only  have 
to  live  to-day.  Do  not  live  to-morrow  before 
it  comes.  No  man  has  ever  broken  down  under 
the  burdens  of  to-day.  In  one  day  he  will  not 
be  afflicted  beyond  his  strength  to  do  and  to 
endure.  You  break  down  only  when  in  your 
un-faith  you  add  to-morrow's  burdens  to   those 


MEANING    OF    LIFE'S    VICISSITUDES     43 

you  bear  to-day.  Then  your  strength  gives  way 
and  you  are  lost.  Do  nothing  of  all  this.  Your 
times  are  in  God's  hands.  Be  satisfied  to  leave 
them  there. 

But  this  I  ought  to  say.  You  cannot  trust; 
you  have  no  right  to  trust — if  you  could  force 
yourself  to  trust,  your  confidence  would  be  mis- 
placed— unless  your  life  is  right  with  God.  The 
confidence  which  Jesus  taught  is  a  simple  and 
a  lovely  thing.  It  is  not  manly  resignation, 
which  is  a  virtue  in  default  of  a  better.  It  is 
not  Stoic  heroism  and  endurance,  which  the 
brave  may  attain  and  which  the  bravest  will  not 
despise.  It  is  something  higher,  sweeter,  more 
precious,  and,  thank  God,  more  common  than 
these.  It  is  Communion.  It  is  Fellowship.  It 
is  not  prayer  for  deliverance  from  trouble,  nor 
prayer  for  material  gifts.  It  is  the  secret  and 
intimate  relation  of  a  happy  child  who  is  content 
so  long  as  he  is  sure  that  his  father  is  by  his  side. 
This  is  the  unbroken  Fellowship  with  the  Father 
in  which  Jesus  lived.  This  is  the  trust  in  God 
to  which  He  invites  us,  and  the  promise  of  peace 
which  He  makes  to  the  untroubled  heart.  Draw 
near  to  God  in  Christ,  and  the  promises  of  an 
elder  day  will  assume  for  you  fresh  meaning  and 
power  in  all  the  vicissitudes  of  your  life.  Friends 
may  fail  us  when  the  hour  of  adversity  comes, 
but 

When  my  father  and  my  mother  forsake  me. 
Then  the  Lord  will  take  me  up. 

Storms  may  break  upon  us,  but 


4^     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

The  Lord  sat  enthroned  as  King  at  the  Flood; 
The  Lord  sitteth  enthroned  as  King  for  ever; 
The  Lord  will  bless  His  people  with  peace. 


Distance  may  part  us  from  our  loved  ones,  and 
in  the  deep  darkness  we  may  fear  to  lose  them ;  yet 

Whither  shall  I  go  from  Thy  spirit? 

Or  whither  shall  I  flee  from  Thy  presence? 

If  I  ascend  up  into  heaven,  Thou  art  there: 

If  I  make  my  bed  in  Sheol,  behold  Thou  art  there. 

If  I  take  the  wings  of  the  morning, 

And  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea. 

Even  there  shall  Thy  hand  lead  me, 

And  Thy  right  hand  shall  hold  me. 

If  I  say.  Surely  the  darkness  shall  overwhelm  me, 

And  the  light  about  me  shall  be  night; 

Even  the  darkness  hideth  not  from  Thee, 

But  the  night  shineth  as  the  day: 

The  darkness  and  the  light  are  both  alike  to  Thee! 

This  is  the  infinite  joy  of  living — to  know  that 
we  are  safe  in  the  Father's  hands  because  we 
are  dear  to  the  Father's  heart.  Fear  no  future, 
since  your  hands  are  clasped  in  His.  You  cannot 
know  the  future.  Your  wisdom  is  not  to  seek  to 
know,  but  to  rest  in  that  great  word  of  Christ's: 
"  Your  Father  knoweth."  O  ye  of  little  faith, 
your  Father  knoweth  all. 


Ill 


THE    HALF    GREATER    THAN    THE 
WHOLE 


No  heart  is  pure  that  is  not  passionate;  no  virtue  is  safe 
that  is  not  enthusiastic. — "  Ecce  Homo." 


Ill 

THE    HALF    GREATER    THAN    THE 
WHOLE 

"When  I  am  weak,  then  am  I  strong." 

— II.    CORINTHIAXS    XII.    10. 

In  the  Book  of  Judges  there  is  preserved  a  curious 
story  about  a  warrior  chief  who  prepared  for 
victory  by  reducing  his  forces.  First,  by  pro- 
claiming a  free  discharge  to  every  officer  and  man 
who  would  avail  himself  of  it,  he  reduced  his 
effective  strength  from  thirty  thousand  to  ten 
thousand.  Afterwards,  by  a  singular  device,  the 
meaning  of  which  is  past  finding  out,  he  further 
reduced  this  ten  thousand  to  three  hundred. 
With  so  small  a  company  of  braves  he  won  a 
notable  victory.  Ever  afterwards  Gideon  believed 
that  a  part  is  greater  than  the  whole. 

In  the  reign  of  Charles  11.  the  Act  of  Uniformity 
deprived  of  their  livings  all  ministers  of  the 
Gospel  who  would  not  conform  to  everything 
contained  in  the  Prayer-book.  Two  thousand 
noble  souls,  driven  from  their  Churches,  their 
homes,  their  people,  stripped  of  honours,  titles, 
prospects  of  advancement,  beggared  of  worldly 
resources,  went  forth  to  preach  a  free  Gospel, 
trusting  in  the  power  of  prayer  and  the  love  of 
God.     They  were  the  Fathers  of  Nonconformity, 

47 


48     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

our  spiritual  ancestors  of  whose  blood  we  are, 
and  the  record  of  two  centuries  has  shown  that  the 
half  was  greater  than  the  whole. 

The  life-story  of  Hellen  Keller  is  one  of  the 
strangest,  most  pathetic,  most  inspiring  in  any 
tongue.  She  is  deaf,  she  is  dumb,  she  is  blind. 
Her  mind,  it  would  seem,  is  hermetically  sealed. 
Knowledge,  light,  pleasure,  one  would  say, 
are  forbidden  access  to  her  soul  by  any  avenue 
known  to  man.  But  she  has  acquired  a  knowl- 
edge of  art,  science,  literature,  a  knowledge  of 
men  and  things  and  of  the  universe,  which 
would  put  many  of  us  to  shame.  And  the  attend- 
ant physician  who  has  written  the  story  of  her  life 
says,  "  It  is  pleasant  to  think  that  she  will  ever 
only  see  the  noblest  side  of  every  human  being. 
While  near  her,  the  roughest  man  is  all  gentle- 
ness and  pity.  She  knows  absolutely  nothing 
of  the  unkindness,  hostility,  narrow-mindedness, 
hatefulness,  and  wickedness  of  the  world  around 
her."  We  are  almost  ready  to  wish  ourselves 
blind,  and  deaf,  and  dumb !  Truly,  the  half  is 
greater  than  the  whole ! 

Many  a  man  has  been  stronger  for  his  weakness, 
richer  for  his  poverty,  happier  and  more  honoured 
by  reason  of  some  shock  or  sorrow  which  seemed 
to  shatter  his  life.  The  sermons  of  Frederick 
William  Robertson,  which  soothed,  comforted, 
braced,  and  inspired  the  most  thoughtful  minds 
of  his  generation,  and  which,  repeated  by 
other  voices  from  ten  thousand  pulpits,  still  go 
on    soothing    and    comforting,  bracing    and    in- 


HALF    GREATER    THAN    WHOLE        49 

spiring,  were  produced  amid  physical  pain 
which  amounted  to  torture.  Some  of  the  most 
superb  flights  of  oratory  compxissed  by  the  daring 
genius  of  Robert  Hal]  were  achieved  in  moments 
when,  unseen,  he  twisted  and  writhed  in  pain, 
and  gripped  the  front  of  the  pulpit  in  his  agony. 
Goun'od,  the  great  composer,  it  is  said,  was  always 
attacked  by  a  mysterious  illness  when  about  to 
bring  out  one  of  his  geat  works.  Schiller's 
finest  work,  according  to  Carlyle's  judgment, 
was  produced  during  the  last  fifteen  years  of 
his  life.  During  that  time  there  was  not  a  day 
which  did  not  bring  its  burden  of  pain.  As  for 
Carlyle  himself,  while  there  are  times  when  his 
cowardly  groanings  and  complainings,  blending 
with  the  preaching  of  a  silent,  divine  courage, 
almost  make  you  despise  him,  it  is  still  true  that 
in  his  most  splendid  triumphs  he  suffered  unto 
blood.  Calvin's  immense  labours  were  carried 
through  amid  pain  and  weariness.  Luther  suf- 
fered so  cruelly  from  great  pains  in  the  head 
that  when  he  tried  to  work  he  was  in  danerer  of 
fainting.  One  need  not  add  that  Luther,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  attributed  it  all  to  the  devil. 
But  from  the  quality  of  the  life  which  remains 
when  the  quantity  has  been  abstracted  by 
misfortunes,  sickness,  or  sorrow,  it  would  seem 
that  the  mysterious  visitant  is  a  "  spirit  of  health," 
no  "  goblin  damned,"  that  he  brings  with  him 
"airs  from  heaven,"  not  "blasts  from  hell." 
"  I  take  pleasure  in  weaknesses,  in  injuries, 
in    necessities,    in     persecutions,    in     distresses, 


50     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

for  Christ's  sake,"  affirms  the  gallant  heart  of 
this  heroic  Paul ;  "  for  when  I  am  weak,  then  am 
I  strong." 

Now,  would  It  surprise  you  to  hear  it  said 
that  in  this  exultant  mood  of  his,  our  great 
Apostle  had  anticipated  one  of  the  most  bril- 
liant generalisations  of  the  mental  science  of 
our  own  day,  and  that  he  was  asserting  in  his 
downright  fashion  the  living  and  luminous 
truth  which  psychology  unfolds  and  illustrates, 
that  the  half  is  often  greater  than  the 
whole? 

When  we  speak  of  a  Bible  writer  "  anticipat- 
ing "  some  great  results  of  modern  science,  nothing 
mechanical  is  meant.  It  is  necessary  to  guard 
ourselves  against  the  devices  of  a  cast-iron 
literalism,  or  we  shall  find  ourselves  saying, 
as  Mr.  Gladstone  was  tempted  to  do,  that  the 
Genesis  story  of  Creation  "  anticipated "  the 
deliverances  of  nineteenth  century  geology; 
or  finding,  as  simple  folks  have  done,  a  de- 
scription of  the  electric  car  in  the  prophecies 
of  Ezekiel.  The  "  anticipation "  of  which  I 
speak  is  a  marvellous  intuition  which  leaps  to  a 
great  truth,  which  cannot  all  express  that  truth, 
nor  account  for  it  and  label  it,  but  which  seizes 
upon  its  essential  realness,  and  grasps  its  just 
conclusions.  In  this  way,  Paul's  declaration  is 
abreast  with  modern  thinking,  and  the  psycholo- 
gist will  explain  what  the  Apostle  felt. 

It  seems  probable  that  the  researches  of  the 
Alienist — the   Specialist   in  mental  disease — have 


HALF    GREATER    THAN    WHOLE        51 

set    men    on    the    track    of    this    generalisation. 
Let  me  try  to  explain.     It  is  very  interesting. 

Men  have  always  felt  that  if  genius  was  not  a 
little  bit  mad,  it  was,  at  least,  not  far  removed 
from  madness.  One  of  the  best-known  couplets  in 
the  language  is  that  of  Dryden : 

Great  wits  are  sure  to  madness  near  allied, 
And  thin  partitions  do  their  bounds  divide. 

And  Shakespeare's  line  is  like  it: 

The  lunatic,  the  lover,  and  the  poet,  are  of  imagination  all 
compact. 

And  these  well-thumbed  quotations  from  our  own 
authors  do  but  reproduce  such  sayings  as  this 
from  Aristotle: 

Many  persons  become  poets,  prophets,  and  sybils,  and 
are  pretty  good  poets  while  they  are  maniacs,  but  when 
cured  can  no  longer  write  verse. 

And  this  from  Plato: 

Delirium  is  by  no  means  an  evil,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
when  it  comes  by  the  gift  of  God,  a  very  great  benefit.  It 
often  happened  that  when  God  afflicted  men  with  a  fatal 
epidemic,  a  sacred  delirium  took  possession  of  some  mortal 
and  inspired  him  with  a  remedy  for  these  misfortunes. 

And  nearer  to  our  owti  times,  Diderot,  one  of 
the  great  writers  who  prepared  the  way  for  the 
French  Revolution,  said: 

I  conjecture  that  these  men  of  sombre  and  melancholy 
temperament  only  owed  the  extraordinary  and  almost  divine 
penetration  Avhich  they  possessed   at  intervals,   and   which 


52     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

led  them  to  ideas,  sometimes  so  mad  and  sometimes  so  sub- 
lime, to  a  periodical  derangement  of  tlie  organism.  They  then 
believed  themselves  inspired,  and  were  insane.  .  .  .  Oh, 
how  near  are  genius  and  madness !  Those  whom  heaven 
has  branded,  for  evil  or  for  good,  are  more  or  less  subject  to 
these  symptoms;  they  reveal  them  more  or  less  frequently, 
more  or  less  violently.  Men  imprison  them  and  chain  them, 
or  raise  statues  to  them. 

And  Lombroso,  in  one  of  the  most  pathetic,  er- 
ratic, ludicrous  books  which  "  science,"  itself  gone 
crazy,  has  given  to  our  world,  opens  his  argument 
with  these  comforting  words: 

It  is  a  sad  mission  to  cut  through  and  destroy  with  the 
scissors  of  analysis  the  delicate  and  iridescent  veils  with 
which  our  proud  mediocrity  clothes  itself.  Very  terrible  is 
the  religion  of  truth.  The  physiologist  is  not  afraid  to 
reduce  love  to  a  play  of  stamens  and  pistils,  and  thought  to 
a  molecular  movement.  Even  genius,  the  one  human  power 
before  which  we  may  bow  the  knee  without  shame,  has  been 
classed  by  not  a  few  alienists  as  on  the  confines  of  crimi- 
nality, one  of  the  teratologic  forms  of  the  human  mind,  a 
variety  of  insanity.* 

The  physiologist  may  not  be  afraid  to  make 
his  wonderful  attempt  to  reduce  love  to  a  play 
of  stamens  and  pistils,  nor  are  we  afraid  that  he 
will  succeed  in  doing  it !  Neither  has  poor 
Lombroso  convinced  us  that  genius  is  a  variety 
of  criminal  insanity.  But  these  men  have  set 
us  thinking.  And  with  their  passion  for  massing 
facts,  they  have  supplied  us  with  material  on 
which  to  base  certain  conclusions.  They  have 
brought  before  us  a  thousand  cases  of  what  they 
have  taught  us  to  call  the  neuropathic  tempera- 
*  "  The  Man  of  Genius,"  Contemporary  Science  Series. 


HALF    GREATER    THAN    WHOLE        53 

ment,  cases  of  persons  suffering  more  or  less 
acutely  from  an  overexcited,  morbid,  or  deranged 
nervous  system.  They  have  shown  us  how  a 
nervous  temperament  may  combine  with  a 
superior  intellect.  And  they  have  proved  that 
this  superior  intellect,  excited,  goaded,  inflamed 
to  ardour,  and  driven  at  highest  pressure,  is 
more  likely  to  effect  momentous  and  permanent 
things  than  If  the  man  had  been  blessed  with  the 
placid  nerves  of  a  healthy  cow.  The  Apostle 
Paul  had  not  these  facts  before  him.  He  made 
no  effort  to  reason  these  things  out.  But — 
himself  epileptic,  according  to  this  strange 
Lombroso — he  was  quite  sure  that  in  some  way 
the  power  of  which  he  was  conscious  was  related 
to  the  feebleness  of  which  he  was  equally  con- 
scious. He  besought  the  Lord  that  the  phys- 
ical Infirmity  might  be  taken  from  him.  And 
God  said,  "  Nay ;  but  My  grace  is  sufficient  for 
thee."  "  Power,"  said  Paul,  "  is  made  per- 
fect In  weakness ;  wherefore  I  will  glory  in  my 
weakness,  that  the  power  of  Christ  may  rest 
upon  me.  For  when  I  am  weak,  then  am  I 
strong." 

Pressing  these  considerations  into  the  most 
secret  sphere  of  personal  religion.  Professor 
James,  of  Harvard,  In  a  book  which  has  been  read 
and  talked  about  by  all  religious  teachers  during 
the  last  year  or  two,  presents  the  argument 
in  these  striking  words : 

In  the  psycopathic  temperament  we  have  the  emotionality 
which  is  the  essential  condition  of  moral  perception;   we 


54     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

have  the  intensity  and  tendency  to  emphasis  which  are  the 
essence  of  practical  moral  vigour;  and  we  have  the  love 
of  metaphysics  and  mysticism  which  carry  one's  interest 
beyond  the  surface  of  the  sensible  world.  What,  then,  is 
more  natural  than  that  this  temperament  should  introduce 
one  to  regions  of  religious  truth,  to  corners  of  the  universe, 
which  your  robust  Philistine  type  of  nervous  system,  for 
ever  offering  its  biceps  to  be  felt,  thumping  its  breast  and 
thanking  Heaven  that  it  hasn't  a  single  morbid  fibre  in  its 
composition,  would  be  sure  to  hide  for  ever  from  its  self- 
satisfied  possessors?  * 

Let  us  look  more  closely  at  these  three  charac- 
teristics, "  Emotionahty,"  "  Intensity,"  "  Mysti- 
cism," readily  admitting  that  they  may  be 
symptoms  of  the  weakness  we  have  agreed  to 
call  neuropathic. 

If  "  Emotionality  "  is  weakness,  then  is  such 
weakness  strength  indeed!  For  it  is  not  less 
emotion  we  need  in  this  cold  world  of  ours, 
but  more.  What  is  the  greatest  difficulty  which 
the  preaching  of  the  Gospel  encounters?  Drink 
— the  habit  and  the  traffic,  which  damn  ten 
souls  for  every  one  that  all  the  Churches  save.? 
Love  of  money — a  root  of  all  kinds  of  evil,  the 
lust  of  gold  viler  and  more  shameful  than  all 
other.?  The  incitements  of  pleasure — pitiful, 
belittling,  maldng  hf  e  ridiculous  ?  No ;  we 
must  find  a  narrower  and  yet  wider  answer. 
The  greatest  difficulty  which  the  preaching  of 
the  Gospel  encounters  is  your  unresponsiveness. 
You  are  afraid  of  yourselves.  You  dare  not  let 
yourselves  go.     You  dare  not  trust  the  impulses 

*  "  The  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,"  The  Gifford 
Lectures,  1901-2;  chapter  I.,  "Religion  and  Neurology." 


HALF    GREATER    THAN    WHOLE        55 

of  your  own  heart.  You  dare  not  obey  the 
instincts  of  your  soul.  Even  when  you  rise  to 
the  courage  of  your  convictions,  you  lack  that 
deeper,  higher  courage,  the  courage  of  your 
intuitions.  You  are  not  so  "  weak  "  as  to  yield 
to  your  emotions;  but  you  would  all  be  stronger 
if  you  were ! 

It  is  the  condition,  says  Dr.  James,  of  "  moral 
perception."  Of  course  it  is !  The  language 
of  the  Boston  psychologist  is  new.  The  truth 
is  as  old  as  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  Men  have 
thought  that  the  way  to  right  thinking  was 
through  a  cool  brain.  Jesus  Christ  knew  that 
the  way  was  through  a  warm  heart.  The 
decorous  person,  who  weighs  and  measures  and 
calculates,  and  finds  that  in  human  life  it  is 
always  "  six  on  one  side  and  five  on  the  other," 
and  says  that  it  is  a  delicate  and  difficult  task 
to  decide  which  has  the  six,  makes  up  his  mind 
at  last — and  makes  it  up  all  wrong.  Impulse  is 
not  infallible.  Infallibility  is  not  known  amongst 
men.  But  impulse  makes  fewer  mistakes  than 
calculation.  The  man  who  has  given  his  heart 
to  the  Purifier  of  hearts  and  his  will  to  the  Will 
that  governs  the  universe,  is  oftener  right  than 
the  man  who  calculates  chances.  The  mistakes 
of  "  canny  "  people  are  contemptible.  The  heart 
is  the  organ'  of  vision. 

You  remember  Dr.  Stockmann  ?  *     "  In  a  house 

that   is   not   aired   and   swept   every   day,   within 

two    or    three   years    people    lose    the   power    of 

thinking    or    acting    morally.     Lack    of    oxygen 

*  Ibsen:  "  An  Enemy  of  the  People." 


56     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

enervates  the  conscience."  But  there  are  times 
when  the  conscience  has  been  mightily  oxygenated 
by  the  hfe-giving  breezes  which  blow  from  the 
shoreless  seas  of  God.  Then  we  glow  with  moral 
fervour.  We  are  exalted  above  the  low  level  of 
our  lives.  These  are  the  occasions  when  we  see 
without  the  effort  of  looking  and  know  without 
the  drudgery  of  learning.  These  are  the  great 
moods,  in  which  we  ourselves  are  potentially 
great.  These  are  the  hours  in  which  we  ought 
to  take  decisions,  make  resolutions,  offer  vows. 
For  these  are  the  hours  of  insight. 

You  are  in  a  great  meeting.  The  leaders 
of  a  great  cause  make  their  appeal  to  you.  The 
impact  of  the  orator's  spirit  upon  your  own 
starts  you  from  your  cold  self-mastery.  You 
are  touched  to  the  deepest  depths  of  all  your 
being  by  the  appeal  to  your  dormant,  yet  death- 
less, sense  of  human  liberty.  In  that  moment 
you  are  ready  to  join  with  all  noble  souls  in 
fighting  the  battle  of  civil  and  religious  liberty. 
Or  you  are  possessed,  dominated,  enthralled,  by 
the  spirit  of  the  man  who  pleads  with  you  for 
consecration  to  the  work  of  national  deliverance 
from  the  evils  and  horrors  of  the  drink  curse. 
Your  heart  leaps  within  you  to  meet  the  glorious 
impulses  which  stream  from  his,  and,  for  a 
moment,  you  are  ready  to  join  hands  with  those 
who  have  banded  to  destroy  the  pirate's  trade. 
Or  you  listen  to  the  impassioned  words  of  the 
preacher  of  the  Cross.  And  there  is  something 
in    the    service    which    uplifts,    solemnises,    awes ; 


HALF    GREATER    THAN    WHOLE        57 

the  singing  of  the  hymns,  the  voice  of  prayer, 
the  strange,  subtle  ministry  of  God's  Spirit  upon 
your  own.  Then  you  are  ready  to  rise,  in  your 
soul  of  souls,  and  prostrate  yourself  before  the 
Lamb  of  God  who  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the 
world.  But — but — there  blows  a  chilling  breath 
of  common  sense!  Your  fervour  is  less  fervent 
and  your  ardour  less  ardent.  And  you  tell  your- 
self that  it  is  not  wise  to  act  on  impulse ;  you  will 
go  home  and  "  think  about  it."  Man,  that  is 
precisely  what  you  ought  not  to  do !  That  is 
the  mistake  you  have  been  making  all  your 
life. 

Thus  the  native  hue  of  resolution 
Is  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought; 
And  enterprises  of  great  pith  and  moment, 
With  this  regard,  their  currents  turn  awry, 
And  lose  the  name  of  action. 

You  say  that  you  will  be  in  a  "  calmer "  mood 
to-morrow.  So  you  will  be.  But  you  will  not 
be  better  able  to  see  into  the  heart  of  moral 
principle.  It  is  always  now  that  is  the  accepted 
time,  the  heroic  time,  the  chlvalric  time.  For 
all  high  resolve  and  brave  life,  to-day  is  the  day 
of  salvation. 

We  cannot  command  these  hours  of  Vision. 
The  mood  is  granted  to  us.  It  Is  only  ours  to 
act.  But  what  actions  are  possible  to  us,  after 
these  visions !  You  have  not  forgotten  Matthew 
Arnold's  Inspired  and  inspiring  words.?  He 
calls  the  poem  "  Morality,"  but  upon  his  own 
definition    that    "  religion    is    morality    touched 


58  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

with  emotion,"  this  is  Religion,  for  it  is  suffused 
with  noble  emotion: 

We  cannot  kindle  when  we  will 

The  fire  which  in  the  heart  resides; 

The  spirit  bloweth  and  is  still, 

In  mystery  our  soul  abides. 

But  tasks  in  hours  of  insight  willed 
Can  be  through  hours  of  gloom  fulfill'd. 

And  do  not  think  that  the  hours  of  gloom  are 

all   that    remain,    that   the   high   mood    in    which 

you  see  visions  and  dream  dreams  will  never  come 

back: 

With  aching  hands  and  bleeding  feet 
We  dig  and  heap,  lay  stone  on  stone; 
We  bear  the  burden  and  the  heat 
Of  the  long  day,  and  wish  'twere  done. 

Not  till  the  hours  of  light  return, 

All  we  have  built  do  we  discern. 

Oh,  grant  that  this  is  weakness,  that  the  very 
words  employed  indicate  that  it  is  weakness, 
that  to  be  "  possessed,  dominated,  enthralled " 
is  to  surrender  one's  freedom  and  confess  one's 
impotence — grant  that  "  passion  "  is  something 
which  we  have  to  suffer,  as  Archbishop  Trench 
tried  to  prove  to  us,  that  the  man  of  passion  is 
the  weak  man,  not  the  strong  one — grant  it  all, 
and  call  it  neuropathic,  neurotic,  what  you  will, 
and  then,  O  our  God,  who  art  a  Consuming  Fire, 
make  us  weak  with  such  a  weakness!  For  when 
I  am  weak,  then  am  I  strong! 

"  Intensity  and  tendency  to  emphasis  '*  is  the 
next  characteristic  recognised  as  the  correlative 
of  this  "  weakness." 


HALF    GREATER    THAN    WHOLE        59 

And  there  is  danger  of  vain  repetition.  For, 
once  again,  if  this  be  weakness,  God  forbid  that 
we  should  ever  be  strong  again ! 

This  is  the  capacity  of  moral  indignation,  a 
weakness  which  is  at  once  the  power  and  the 
glory  of  strong  men.  There  are  times  when  it  is 
a  crime  to  keep  cool;  when  an  unruffled  pulse  is  a 
disgrace;  when  measured  speech  is  infamous. 
During  the  long  agony  of  Armenia  there  was  a 
man  who  suffered  in  his  own  soul  the  tortures 
inflicted  by  Turk  and  Kurd.  Upon  his  brain 
and  heart  seemed  to  have  accumulated  the 
frightful  woes  of  an  outraged  and  slaughtered 
people.  And  it  seemed  to  those  who  loved  him 
that  he  would  go  mad  under  the  pain  and  the 
shame.  It  would  have  been  more  creditable  if 
we  had  all  gone  mad!  I  knew  a  woman  who 
had  left  her  home  and  sacrificed  much  to  plead 
the  cause  of  her  race,  of  the  coloured  people  in 
the  Southern  States  of  America.  I  have  seen 
her,  when  the  news  of  some  fresh  lynching 
horror  reached  us,  shaken  by  storms  of  passion 
and  of  suffering.  Then  words,  hot,  hissing, 
terrible,  fell  from  her,  until  pain  passed  into 
the  blessed  relief  of  tears.  The  other  day,  one 
of  the  greatly  loved  and  hated  advocates  of 
international  peace  spent  some  hours  with  me. 
And  as  we  talked  of  our  sufferings  during  the 
shame  of  the  war  in  South  Africa,  he  told  me 
that  to  him  it  was  a  crucifixion,  and  day  and 
night  he  saw  the  little  children,  murdered  in  the 
Concentration  Camps.     And  this  generous  man, 


60  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

large  In  heart  and  brain,  admitted  to  me,  in  the 
sweet  intimacies  of  those  who  have  shared  a 
great  grief  together,  that  often  he  broke  down, 
and  alone,  for  hours,  like  a  child,  he  sobbed 
and  cried  and  prayed.  Do  you  remember  Mr. 
John  G.  Woolley,  the  fine-spirited  advocate  of 
Prohibition?  Do  you  call  to  mind  his  dignified 
appearance  and  cultured  speech — the  man  himself 
representing  the  best  type  of  American  gentle- 
man ? 

And  as  you  saw  him,  faultlessly  attired  and 
with  his  beautiful  manners,  did  you  picture  him  a 
degraded  drunkard  reeling  through  the  gutters  of 
Chicago.'^  Imagine  that  you  hear  him  now,  as  he 
answers  the  objection  that  the  Drink  question  is 
just  another  question  of  political  economy  and 
must  be  so  debated :  "  The  drink  traffic  is  not 
economics,  but  treason,  overt,  insolent,  bloody  as 
the  shambles,  black  as  the  lees  of  midnight.  I 
have  eaten  hell-ashes  until  my  mind  is  alkaline  and 
cuts  up  the  unctuous  lubricants  of  debate  and 
spoils  the  play  of  thought.  I  hate  it,  and  when  I 
think,  all  the  voices  of  memory,  all  the  impulses 
of  my  soul,  become  an  unleashed  mob,  crying, 
'Kill,  Kill!'" 

All  very  reprehensible,  I  do  not  doubt;  such 
passion  is  most  improper ;  these  displays  of 
feeling  are  weakness,  not  strength !  Oh,  to  be 
sure !  Our  madness  condemns  us.  It  is  worse  than 
wicked,  it  is  vulgar !  Well,  let  every  discreet  person 
stalk  on  solemnly,  with  imperturbable  equanimity, 
to  the  Paradise  of  respectable  mediocrity ;  but  let 


HALF    GREATER    THAN    WHOLE        61 

me  burn  and  consume  with  the  passion  of  the 
Woolleys,  Garrisons,  Luthers,  Pauls  of  all  the 
ages,  for  when  I  am  weak,  then  am  I  strong! 

"  Love  of  metaphysics  and  mysticism  "  is  the 
third  characteristic — a  "  weakness "  for  this 
work-a-day  world,  who  can  doubt  it?  His  Royal 
Highness  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  seventy 
years  ago,  spoke  very  strongly  to  Mr.  Gladstone  * 
about  the  bishops  abandoning  the  use  of  wigs. 
He  said  that  nothing  had  done  the  Church  so 
much  harm !  Now  that  we  can  understand. 
There  is  something  solid  and  substantial  about 
a  wig.  You  can  lay  hold  of  it  and  grasp  it  and 
see  that  it  is  genuine  and  all  good  alike.  Nothing 
has  done  the  Church  so  much  harm  as  the  loss 
of  the  bishops'  wigs.  Foolish  poets,  akin,  you 
remember,  to  lunatics,  have  sung  that 

The  Church's  one  foundation 

Is  Jesus  Christ  her  Lord; 
She  is  His  own  creation, 

By  water  and  the  word; 

foolish  divines  have  pondered  the  eternal  mys- 
teries of  Incarnation,  Atonement,  Resurrection ; 
what  time  foolish  souls  with  a  weakness  for 
metaphysics  and  a  love  of  mysticism,  carrying 
their  interest  beyond  the  surface  of  the  sensible 
world,  have  longed  to  wash  their  robes  and  make 
them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb !  But  for 
good,  healthy  Philistinism,  which  sweeps  the 
board  and  leaves  nothing  more  to  say,  preach  to 
me  the  everlasting  reality  of  the  bishops'  wig, 
*John  Morley's   "Gladstone,"   Vol.   I.,  p.   127. 


62     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

predestined  from  before  the  salvation  of  the 
world  to  be  the  banner  of  our  contradictions  and 
the  symbol  of  our  faith ! 

It  is  a  weakness,  then,  this  interest  which 
travels  beneath  the  surface  of  material  things, 
and  seeks  after  the  unseen  and  eternal.  But  a 
lady  once  said  to  Turner,  the  great  painter, 
*'  Mr.  Turner,  I  never  see  any  sunsets  like  yours." 
And  the  artist  answered,  grimly,  "  No,  Madam, 
don't  you  wish  you  could.''  "  And  that  question 
is  our  answer  to  the  strong  people  who  have 
known  nothing  of  our  weakness,  who  have  never 
seen  what  we  have  seen  of  God's  presence,  nor 
experienced  what  we  have  realised  of  the  present 
life  become  immortality,  nor  tasted,  as  we  have 
done,  how  gracious  the  Lord  is.  That  is  our 
answer:  We  are  weak:  but  what  would  you  give 
to  be  as  weak  as  we  are.?  For  when  I  am  weak, 
then  am  I  strong. 

And  this — though  there  is  only  time  for  a 
bare  word  about  it,  and  it  is  capable  of  a  thousand 
illustrations  and  enforcements — is  our  answer 
to  the  pseudo-scientific  materialists  who  would 
laugh  religious  experiences  out  of  court  because 
religious  persons  are  hysterical,  and  all  the  rest 
of  it.  The  author  whom  I  have  already  quoted 
shows  us  how  these  objectors  prove  too  much. 
For,  on  their  own  showing,  genius,  also,  is  in- 
sanity, on  the  confines  of  criminality,  one  of  the 
monstrous  aberrations  of  the  human  mind,  a 
form  of  madness !  Yet  who  ever  thought  of 
pouring     contempt     on     "  Hamlet,"     "  Paradise 


HALF    GREATER    THAN    WHOLE        63 

Lost,"  or  the  "  Inferno,"  laughing  at  the  "  Descent 
from  the  Cross "  or  the  "  Last  Judgment," 
flinging  scorn  on  the  "  Perseus "  of  Benvenuto 
Celhni  or  the  "  Hercules  "  of  Canova,  and  making 
mock  of  "  Tannhauser "  or  the  "  Moonlight 
Sonata  "  because  genius  is  epilepsy,  and  epilepsy 
is  localised  irritation  of  the  cerebral  cortex? 

And  there  is  a  world  of  wisdom  in  Dr.  James' 
dictum  that  if  there  be  such  a  thing  as  Inspiration 
from  a  higher  realm,  it  well  might  be  that  the 
neuropathic  temperament  would  furnish  the  chief 
condition  of  receptivity.  Again  we  are  brought 
back  to  this  living  truth,  that  the  half  is  greater 
than  the  whole. 

And  now,  if  the  great,  simple,  helpful  lesson 
of  all  this  needs  to  be  accentuated,  the  sermon 
has  failed.  We  all  have  our  infirmities,  burdens, 
crosses,  fears.  "  But  God  has  not  waited  till  this 
late,  lonely  hour  to  love  us."  Before  the  dawn 
of  created  life  upon  this  earth  we  were  present 
in  His  mind  and  heart.  He  has  so  planned  this 
universe  that  we  are  remade  by  the  things  which 
would  unmake  us,  renewed  by  that  which  would 
destroy  us,  and  saved  unto  life  eternal  by  that 
which  we  call  death.  Our  sorrow  is  exceeding 
sorrowful;  pain  is  always  painful;  and  weakness 
hard  to  be  endured.  But  sorrow,  pain,  and 
weakness  have  their  mighty  compensation.  They 
rob  us  of  half  that  life  holds  dear — but  the  half 
that  remains  is  richer.  They  strip  our  life  of 
half  its  joy — but  the  joy  which  abides  gleams 
with  a  radiance  brighter  far.     One  half  of  our 


64  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

life  has  been  taken  from  us  at  a  stroke — but  the 
half  that  remams  is  greater  than  the  whole! 

Tho'  rapture  of  love  is  linked  with  the  pain  and  fear  of  loss, 
And  the  hand  that  takes  the  crown  must  ache  with  many  a 

cross ; 
Yet  he  who  hath  never  a  conflict  hath  never  a  victor's  palm, 
And  only  the  toilers  know  the  sweetness  of  rest  and  calm. 

The  easy  path  in  the  lowland  hath  little  of  grand  or  new, 
But  a  toilsome  ascent  leads  on  to  a  wide  and  glorious  view; 
Peopled  and  warm  is  the  valley,  lonely  and  chill  the  height, 
But  the  peak  that  is  nearer  the  storm  cloud  is  nearer  the 
stars  of  light. 

Most  gladly,  therefore,  will  I  rather  glory  in  my 
weaknesses,  that  the  strength  of  Christ  may  rest 
upon  me.  Wherefore,  I  take  pleasure  in  weak- 
nesses, in  injuries,  in  necessities,  in  persecutions, 
in  distresses,  for  Christ's  sake;  for  when  I  am 
weak,  then  am  I  strong. 


IV 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HOLIDAYS:  A  SUMMER 
SERMON 


I  learned  it  in  the  meadow  path, 
I  learned  it  on  the  mountain  stairs, 

The  best  things  any  mortal  hath 

Are  those  which  every  mortal  shares. 

The  air  we  breathe,  the  sky,  the  breeze. 
The  light  without  us  and  within. 

Life  with  its  unlocked  treasuries, 
God's  riches — are  for  all  to  win. 

The  grass  is  softer  to  my  tread, 
For  rest  it  yields  unnumbered  feet; 

Sweeter  to  me  the  wild  rose  red. 
Because  she  makes  the  whole  world  sweet. 

Into  your  heavenly  loneliness 
Ye  welcome  me,  O  solemn  peaks! 

And  me  in  every  guest  ye  bless 
Who   reverently  your  mystery  seeks. 

And  up  the  radiant  peopled  way 
That  opens  into  worlds  unknown. 

It  will  be  life's  delight  to  say, 
"  Heaven  is  not  heaven  for  me  alone." 

— Lucy  Lahcom. 


IV 

THE  ETHICS  OF  HOLIDAYS :  A  SUMMER 
SERMON 

"  Come  ye  yourselves  apart  into  a  desert  place,  and  rest 
awhile." — Mark  vi.  31. 

There  were  many  coming  and  going  and  they 
had  not  leisure  so  much  as  to  eat.  The  Apostles 
had  returned  from  the  missionary  journey  on 
which  their  Lord  had  sent  them.  They  were 
flushed  and  excited  by  their  success.  The  fame 
of  the  great  Preacher  and  of  His  friends  had 
spread  through  the  land.  Multitudes  from  all 
the  cities  thronged  to  see  and  hear.  Then  it 
was  that  Jesus  said  to  His  disciples,  "  Come  ye 
yourselves  apart  and  rest  awhile." 

There  has  been  no  day  in  the  history  of  the 
world  when  such  counsel  was  more  needed  than 
to-day.  There  are  no  people  on  the  face  of  the 
whole  earth  who  have  more  cause  to  heed  It  and 
profit  by  it  than  ourselves.  Our  cities  are  too  vast 
and  too  crowded.  Man,  like  other  animals,  was 
meant  for  the  fresh  air  and  the  open  fields,  for  the 
storms,  the  snows,  and  the  sunshine.  But  he  claps 
a  stone  box  down  over  his  head,  sets  it  in  the  midst 
of  a  hundred  thousand  other  stone  boxes  as 
ugly  as  his  own,  stretching  away  in  bewildering 
squares  and  parallelograms,  shutting  out  God's 

67 


68     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

air  and  light,  until  he  Is  ready  to  faint  on  a 
wanii  day  and  freeze  on  a  cold  one,  and  die  of 
pneumonia — or  of  terror — if  the  east  wind  blows 
upon  him.  This  crowded,  rushing,  pushing, 
crushing  city  life  gets  on  our  nerves.  We  live 
too  fast.  We  live  faster  than  men  ever  lived 
before.  We  live  more  than  twenty-four  hours 
in  the  day  and  more  than  seven  days  in  the 
week.  We  burn  the  candle  at  both  ends;  and 
then,  for  fear  our  neighbour  should  get  ahead 
of  us,  we  light  it  in  the  middle,  too.  We  are 
consumed  hy  the  fever  of  living.  We  exhaust  our 
vital  energies  in  unending  stress  and  strain. 

We  have  no  time  to  think.  It  is  as  much  as 
we  can  be  expected  to  do  if  we  earn  bread  and 
cheese  and  lay  by  a  dollar  or  two  against  a  rainy 
day.  The  great  majority  of  us  are  just  as 
capable  of  flying  as  we  are  of  thinking.  Leisure 
for  quiet  contemplation  of  the  world  in  which 
we  live  is  denied  us.  There  is  no  grass  beneath 
our  feet,  no  blue  sky  above  our  head.  The 
world  of  trees  and  flowers  and  singing  birds  is 
not  for  us.  Art  and  poetry  and  gentle  culture 
exist  only  in  a  world  of  dreams.  While  if  we 
once  gave  ourselves  pause  to  meditate  upon  the 
deep  things  of  God  and  the  soul,  on  Time  and 
its  meaning,  Life  and  its  mysteries.  Heaven  and 
the  glories  which  we  thrust  away,  why — we 
might  miss  the  next  car.  The  injunction  which 
insults  me  every  time  I  travel  by  a  certain 
railway  is  "  Please  hurry  on  for  the  lift."  The 
"  please "    is    in    diamond    type,    and    you    need 


ETHICS    OF    HOLIDAYS  69 

a  microscope  to  see  it.  The  "  hurry  "  you  can 
read  a  mile  away.  Hurry,  then,  by  all  means,  for 
we  could  not  live  if  we  did  not  kill  ourselves  to  get 
somewhere  else! 

And  yet,  if  we  are  determined  to  do  it,  even 
in  the  frenzied  rush  of  our  city  life  we  can  hear 
and  heed  the  Saviour's  call,  "  Come  ye  your- 
selves apart  and  rest  awhile."  One  fine  and 
gracious  opportunity  is  offered  to  us  by  our 
summer  holidays.  The  happiness  which  they 
bring  us  is  of  the  first  importance  in  a  healthy, 
holy,  Christian  life. 

We  pray  God  to  forgive  us  our  sins:  we  ought 
to  pray  to  be  forgiven  our  sadness.  There  is 
no  virtue  in  misery.  The  melancholy  person 
is  not  necessarily  a  superior  person ;  and  if  he 
were,  the  superior  person  is  generally  detestable. 
A  face  as  long  as  a  fiddle  and  a  voice  like  that 
of  an  Alpine  crow  will  not  be  imputed  to  us  for 
righteousness.  We  shall  not  go  to  Heaven  for 
our  tears  nor  to  Hell  for  our  smiles.  Humour 
is  a  gift  of  God  as  well  as  Pathos.  In  His  presence 
is  fulness  of  Joy.  We  are  all  sinners,  and  some- 
times we  deserve  to  be  miserable.  But  it  has 
not  yet  been  shown  why  on  Sundays,  Wednes- 
days, and  Fridays  we  should  call  on  God  the 
Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy  Ghost, 
and  then  on  the  holy,  blessed  and  glorious 
Trinity,  three  Persons  in  one  God,  to  have  mercy 
upon  us  miserable  sinners !  One  day  Paxton 
Hood  had  to  preach  in  a  Yorkshire  church 
where  it  was  the  custom  for  an  official  to  announce 


70     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

the  hymn.  It  was  a  glorious  summer  morning, 
when  God's  mercies  fell  on  waiting  hearts  like 
the  gentle  rain  from  heaven  and  the  earth  smiled 
in  the  light  of  His  countenance.  And  the  good 
brother  gave  out 

"  My  thoughts  on  awful  subjects  roll, 
Damnation  and  the  dead  " — 

when  Paxton  Hood  leaped  up  and  said,  "  Oh 
no,  they  don't !  My  thoughts  do  not  roll  on  any- 
thing so  dreadful.     Let  us  sing, 

"  Come  let  us  join  our  cheerful  songs 
With  angels  round  the  throne  I " 

Let  us  have  done  with  these  solemn  hypocrisies 
of  conventional  worship.  Let  us  frankly  claim 
our  heritage  of  happiness  in  a  world  whose 
builder  and  maker  is  God.  When  the  Lord 
turned  again  the  captivity  of  Zion,  they  were 
like  unto  them  that  dream.  Then  was  their 
mouth  filled  with  laughter,  and  their  tongue, 
with  singing.  And  once,  when  these  laughing, 
singing  ones,  whose  captivity  the  Lord  had 
"  turned,"  saw  their  work  approaching  com- 
pletion, and  Jerusalem  promising  to  stand  once 
again  as  a  city  that  is  compact  together,  the 
assembled  thousands,  as  one  man,  lifted  up 
their  voice  and  wept.  But  Nehemiah,  the 
governor,  and  Ezra,  the  priest,  reproved  their 
moanings  and  stopped  their  tears :  "  This  day 
is  holy  unto  the  Lord  your  God:  mourn  not, 
nor    weep.     Go    your    way ;    eat   the    fat,    drink 


ETHICS    OF    HOLIDAYS  71 

the  sweet,  send  portions  unto  him  for  whom 
nothing  is  prepared:  for  this  day  is  holy  unto 
our  Lord;  neither  be  ye  grieved,  for  the  joy 
of  the  Lord  is  your  strength."  It  is  not  for 
nothing,  surely,  that  the  Apostle  Paul  speaks 
to  us  of  the  glorious  gospel  of  the  "  blissful  " 
God;  nor  that  our  Saviour  gives  us  the  repeated 
assurance,  "  These  things  have  I  said  unto  you 
that  your  joy  may  he  full!  " 

In  all  ages  religion  has  claimed  certain  days 
and  freed  them  from  labour  for  the  happiness  of 
men.  A  "  festival "  is,  historically,  a  day  set 
apart  for  religious  observance.  The  history  of 
feasts  and  festivals  is  the  history  of  religion  and 
of  civilisation.  The  religion  of  Israel  was  rich 
in  such  "  feasts."  Every  seventh  day  was  a 
Sabbath.  Every  seventh  month  was  a  sacred 
month.  Every  seventh  year  was  a  Sabbath 
year.  And  let  us  never  forget  that,  although 
Exodus  dates  back  the  Sabbath  to  the  imagined 
rest  which  the  Creator  took  on  the  seventh  day 
after  working  on  six,  yet  those  deeper,  truer 
interpreters  of  God  whom  we  call  the  prophets, 
allege  a  vastly  different  ground.  Why  do  you 
always  read  the  Ten  Commandments  from 
Exodus.'^  Deuteronomy  is  a  better  book.  It  is 
the  book  which  Jesus  loved.     Listen : 

Observe  the  Sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy,  as  the  Lord 
thy  God  commanded  Thee.  Six  days  shalt  thou  labour 
and  do  all  thy  work:  but  the  seventh  day  is  a  sabbath  unto 
the  Lord  thy  God:  in  it  thou  shalt  not  do  any  work,  thou, 
nor  thy  son,  nor  thy  daughter,  nor  thy  manservant,  nor  thy 
maidservant,  nor  thine  ox,  nor  thine  ass,  nor  any  of  thy 


72  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

cattle,  nor  thy  stranger  that  is  within  thy  gates;  that  thy 
manservant  and  thy  maidservant  m,ay  rest  as  well  as  thou. 
And  thou  shalt  remember  that  thou  wast  a  servant  in  the 
land  of  Egypt,  and  the  Lord  thy  God  brought  thee  out 
thence  by  a  mighty  hand  and  by  a  stretched  out  arm; 
therefore  the  Lord  thy  God  commanded  thee  to  keep  the 
sabbath  day. 

This  is  divine  because  it  is  so  human.  And 
the  Sabbath  was  only  one  of  innumerable  Fes- 
tivals, in  all  of  which  we  trace  the  direct  and 
conscious  effort  of  religion  to  give  men  a  breath- 
ing time,  time  to  feel  and  meditate,  a  time  to  escape 
the  toil  and  drudgery  of  life,  an  anticipation 
of  the  Saviour's  invitation,  "  Come  ye  yourselves 
apart  and  rest  awhile." 

One  fact  is  too  colossal  and  ubiquitous  to  be 
ignored.  Religious  festivals,  the  wide  world 
over,  have  degenerated  into  licence  and  sin. 
Every  schoolboy  reads  this  of  the  festivals  of 
Greece  and  Rome.  The  Old  Testament  pages 
are  crowded  with  warnings,  entreaties,  and 
threats  as  the  prophets  see  the  Festivals  of  the 
Church  become  an  occasion  of  vice.  The  Carnival 
scenes  of  a  thousand  Roman  Catholic  towns 
witness  to  the  same  insensate  law.  Let  us  learn 
the  lesson  and  heed  the  warning.  How  foolish 
many  of  our  holidays  are!  And  how  harmful! 
We  come  back,  worn  out  in  body  and  mind, 
jaded,  restless,  disappointed.  We  have  tried 
to  see  too  much  and  do  too  much.  We  are  not 
greatly  wiser,  after  all,  than  Mrs.  Poyser : 

"  I'd  sooner  ha'  brewin'  day  and  washin'  day 
together  than  one  o'  these  pleasurin'  days.  There's 


ETHICS    OF    HOLIDAYS  73 

no  work  so  tlrin'  as  danglln'  about  an'  starin',  and 
not  rightly  knowin'  what  you're  goin'  to  do 
next;  and  keepin'  your  face  in  smilin'  order 
like  a  grocer  o'  market  day  for  fear  people 
shouldna  think  you  civil  enough.  An'  you've 
nothin'  to  show  for  it  when  it's  done,  if  it  isn't  a 
yallow  face  wi'  eatin'  things  as  disagree," 

And  other  excesses  there  are,  which  indicate 
that  the  holiday  has  served  as  an  excuse  for 
throwing  off  restraint,  for  the  repudiation  of 
the  moral  law,  for  an  indulgence  in  mere  brutish 
pleasures  from  which,  in  our  sober  hours,  we 
should  have  disdainfully  turned  away.  Let  us 
listen  again  to  the  gracious  invitation,  "  Come 
ye  yourselves  apart  and  rest  awhile,"  for  if  it 
is  in  His  company  that  we  rest,  every  holiday  will 
be  a  holy  day. 

I  have  spoken  briefly,  but  I  have  said  enough 
to  show  that  from  the  point  of  view  of  any 
rational  conception  of  religion  the  holiday  is 
good  in  itself,  that  happiness  may  be  accepted 
as  God's  good  gift.  And  happiness  may  well  be 
a  minister  of  holiness.  The  genius  of  our  lan- 
guage links  together  Health  and  Holiness.  Heal 
and  Hale,  Whole  and  Holy,  are  one  in  structure 
and  in  spirit. 

Yet  there  is  more  than  this.  For  in  our  holi- 
days we  may  come  quite  wondrously  within 
the  deepest  ministries  of  God  to  human  hearts. 

In  our  holidays,  as  in  all  else,  we  must  pre- 
serve a  certain  catholicity  of  temper,  nor  attempt 
to  prescribe  in  what  form  another  man  shall  keep 


74  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

holiday.  But  for  the  most  part  we  find  our  happi- 
ness in  escape  from  the  city  to  the  country,  to  the 
mountains  or  the  sea. 

There  we  meet  with  God. 

In  the  most  impressionable  years  of  my  life 
I  came  under  the  influence  of  a  teacher  who  was 
philosopher,  historian,  and  poet.  Nature  he 
loved  with  a  deep  and  tender  and  passionate 
love,  and  Nature  never  did  betray  the  heart 
that  loved  her.  She  filled  his  life  with  blessings, 
but  her  richest  was  the  love  he  bore  her.  Words- 
worth was  his  Master;  but  the  great  classical 
passages  of  Nature-adoration  from  Byron  and 
Matthew  Arnold  were  also  day  by  day  upon 
his  lips.  The  "  Presence  .  .  .  whose  dwell- 
ing is  the  light  of  setting  suns,"  the  "  Heaven  " 
which  "  lies  about  us  in  our  infancy,"  "  the 
light  which  never  was  on  sea  or  land,"  with  all 
those  magical  lines  from  "  Immortality,"  "  Tin- 
tern  Abbey,"  "  The  Excursion,"  "  Childe  Harold," 
and  "  Obermann "  which  once  heard  make 
melody  in  our  hearts  for  ever,  grew  more  real, 
more  full  of  meaning  and  power,  when  they  were 
half-spoken,  half-chanted  by  his  deep  organ- 
voice.  Ajid  one  summer  Sunday  night,  when 
our  work  was  done,  and  we  were  walking  home, 
after  quoting,  as  he  used  to,  not  caring  whether 
anyone  listened  or  not,  some  of  these  glorious 
lines,  he  said  to  me,  "  I  am  all  my  life  trying  to 
get  at  the  Reality  which  lies  behind  the  illusion 
of  God's  richer,  nearer  presence,  the  illusion 
which  made  Wordsworth  what  he  was,  and 
which   turns   all   our    thoughts,   yours    and   mine, 


ETHICS    OF    HOLIDAYS  75 

to  poetry  to-night."  As  he  spoke,  I  had  no 
word  to  say.  But  I  know  now.  I  can  hear  him 
say,  "  There  must  be  some  Reahty.  I  wish  I 
could  tell  what  it  is."  And  I  know  what  it  is! 
It  is  all  Reality.  There  is  no  illusion.  It  is 
God  Himself  who  draws  near  to  us,  and  lays  His 
hand  upon  our  hearts,  and  speaks  to  us,  and 
makes  us  know  Him  and  feel  Him  near.  The 
revelation  of  God  in  Beauty  is  as  real  as  any 
revelation  of  Himself  which  God  has  made  and 
man  received.  I  believe  that  the  sense  of  Beauty 
in  Art  as  well  as  in  Nature  has  laid  hold  on 
mortals  and  brought  them  to  the  realisation  of 
immortality.  I  have  been  told,  and  I  believe, 
that  God  has  come  out  of  His  eternal  invisibility 
and  touched  men's  lives  to  finer  issues  when  the 
Hallelujah  Chorus  has  smitten  with  its  passion 
on  their  hearts ;  when  a  Madonna  of  Raphael 
or  Murillo  has  smiled  her  sadness  or  her  sweetness 
into  their  souls;  when  the  majesty  of  the  great 
cathedral,  Ely,  or  Milan,  or  Cologne,  has  hushed 
every  sense  and  sublimed  every  faculty  to 
worship.  But  I  speak  of  that  of  which  I  am 
more  confident  when  I  say  that  God  Himself  is 
near  me — I  know  that  He  is  near — when  the 
fields  blaze  with  scarlet  and  gold  at  my  feet  and 
the  mountains  tower  grim  and  grand  above  me, 
when  the  river  laughs  and  sings  in  the  sun- 
shine, or  the  moonbeams  chase  each  silver  wave 
over  the  bosom  of  the  unresting  sea. 

If  we  try  to  analyse  this  ministry  of  God,  we 
fihd  it  to  be  first  Peace  and  then  Power. 

It   is   Peace   with   oneself.     Under   the   calmly 


76     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

conscious  stars,  on  the  wide  moor,  amongst 
the  eternal  hills,  or  lulled  by  the  multitudinous 
sea,  passion  dies ;  f retfulness,  repining,  foolish 
ambitions,  petulant  disappointments,  take  unto 
themselves  wings  and  fly  away.  We  wonder 
how  earth  can  be  unhappy  while  Heaven  leaves 
us — not  merely  "  youth  and  love  " — but  Nature, 
ourselves,  and  God. 

It  is  Peace  with  our  fellow-men.  We  have 
not  analysed  Man  more  carefully.  We  have 
not  argued  ourselves  into  a  finer  appreciation 
of  the  mind  that  looks  before  and  after.  We 
have  not  schooled  ourselves  to  think  no  evil  of 
our  fellow-mortals.  No ;  but  sweet  and  subtle 
influences  have  stolen  into  our  souls,  and  sus- 
picion, anger,  contempt,  combativeness,  droop  and 
die.     We  are  one  with  our  kind. 

And  it  is  Peace  with  God.  It  must  be  peace 
with  Him,  for  we  are  one  with  Him.  We  are 
immortal,  here  and  now.  We  are  mind  of  His 
mind;  we  have  yielded  our  will  to  His  pure 
and  perfect  will.  In  Him  we  live  and  move  and 
have  our  being. 

And  it  is  Power.  Our  first  feelings  are  of  our 
insignificance.  Later,  we  know  that  we  are  in- 
finite. When  we  consider  the  heavens,  the  work 
of  His  fingers,  the  moon  and  the  stars,  which 
He  has  ordained,  we  cower  before  the  revelation 
of  our  littleness.  But  as  we  consider  them  and 
yet  again  consider  them,  we  find  ourselves 
of  ten  thousand  times  more  consequence  than  they 
and    all    the    spheres    of    light.     Then    we    rise 


ETHICS    OF    HOLIDAYS  77 

to  the  knowledge  of  our  majesty,  for  Thou, 
O  Lord,  hast  crowned  man  with  glory  and 
honour,  Thou  hast  made  him  but  little  lower 
than  God!  To  us  the  prayer  has  been  fulfilled, 
the  prayer  of  him,  surely  the  most  religious  of 
unbelievers ! 

"Ah,  once  more,"  I  cried,  "  ye  stars,  ye  waters, 
On  my  heart  your  mighty  charm  renew; 

Still,  still  let  me,  as  I  gaze  upon  you. 
Feel  my  soul  becoming  vast  like  you ! " 

And  we,  too,  have  turned  from  the  glories 
without  to  the  glories  within,  have  made  our  own 
the  fine  experience  of  Lewis  Morris  in  his  "  Even- 
song," and  have  blessed  God  for  the  manifesta- 
tion of  Himself  which  has  possessed  us  wholly : — 

And  through   all  the  clear   spaces   above— oh  wonder!   oh 

glory  of  light! — 
Came  forth  myriads  on  myraids  of  worlds,  the  shining  host 

of  the  night, — 

The  vast  forces  and  fires  that  know  the  same  sun  and  centre 

as   we; 
The  faint  planets  which  roll  in  vast  orbits  round  suns  we 

shall  never  see; 

The  rays  which  had  sped  from  the  first,  with  the  awful 

swiftness  of  light, 
To   reach  only  then,  it  might  be,  the  confines  of  mortal 

sight; 

Oh,  wonder  of  Cosmical  Order!  oh  Maker  and  Ruler  of  all. 
Before  whose  Infinite  greatness  in  silence  we  worship  and 
fall! 

Could  I  doubt  that  the  Will  which  keeps  this  great  Universe 
steadfast  and  sure 


78  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

Might  be  less  than  His  creatures  thought,  full  of  goodness, 
pitiful,  pure? 

Could  I  dream  that  the  Power  which  keeps  these  great  suns 

circling  around, 
Took  no  thought  for  the  humblest  life  which  flutters  and 

falls  to  the  ground? 

"Oh,   Faith!   thou   art   higher   than  all,"     Then   I   turned 

from  the  glories  above 
And  from  every  casement  new-lit  there  shone  a  soft  radiance 

of  love: 

Young  mothers  were  teaching  their  children  to  fold  little 

hands  in  prayer; 
Strong  fathers  were  resting  from  toil,  'mid  the  hush  of  the 

Sabbath  air; 

Peasant  lovers  strolled  through  the  lanes,  shy  and  difBdent 

each  with  each. 
Yet  knit  by  some  subtle  union  too  fine  for  their  halting 

speech: 

Humble  lives,  to  low  thought,  and  low;  but  linked,  to  the 

thinker's  eye, 
By  a  bond  that  is  stronger  than  death,  with  the  lights  of  the 

ultimate  sky: 

Here  as  there,  the  great  drama  of  life  rolled  on,  and  a 

jubilant  voice 
Thrilled  through  me,  ineffable,  vast,  and  bade  me  exult  and 

rejoice! 

There  is  one  consideration  which  we  cannot 
escape.  What  of  the  myriads  of  our  brethren, 
pent  up  in  mean  streets,  prisoners  of  the  counting- 
house  and  the  shop,  slaves  of  the  mill  and  the 
mine,  the  poor  and  heavy  laden  of  every  name- 
less class  to  whom  these  words  are  bitter  mockery, 
for  whom  no  changing  seasons  bring  cessation 


ETHICS    OF    HOLIDAYS  79 

from  toil  and  weariness  ?  What  of  them — in  these 
days  of  summer  suns  and  joy? 

There  should  be  none  such — except  the  vicious. 
And  Christianity  cannot  rest  while  such  mortals 
live,  disfranchised  of  their  right  to  rest  and 
happiness.  The  unaccomplished  mission  of  our 
faith  is  the  redress  of  every  economic  inequality. 
There  is  no  Gospel  which  is  not  a  Gospel  of 
social  service.  We  live  to  bring  all  mankind 
into  the  family  of  God,  joint-heirs  with  the  most 
favoured  life  on  earth  of  the  unspeakable  riches 
of  Christ.  But,  meantime,  while  such  poverty 
remains,  while  such  evil  conditions  sadden  and 
appal  us,  what  right  have  we  to  our  holidays, 
to  our  happiness?  Can  we  sit  at  our  feast  blind- 
fold, or  dare  we  open  our  eyes?  What  right 
have  we  to  any  feast  while  our  brothers  starve 
in  sight  of  plenty?  What  right?  None — if 
our  Hves  are  wrong.  If  we  are  living  for  our- 
selves, thinking,  planning,  toiling,  accumulating, 
enjoying,  for  ourselves — none.  But  if  all  life  is 
to  us  a  sacred  trust;  if  happiness  is  only  so 
much  stored-up  energy  to  be  expended  in  divine, 
redemptive  toil,  then  go,  keep  the  feast  and  share 
the  festival,  charge  your  blood  and  brain  with 
health  and  flood  your  soul  with  joy.  And  come 
back  to  our  world  of  suffering  and  wrong,  to  spend 
your  new-found  strength  again  in  the  blessing  of 
mankind. 

But  for  the  present,  go  away  and  forget! 
It  is  a  counsel  of  perfection,  and  you  would  not 
follow  it,  else  I  would  say  to  you:  Go  where  you 


so    THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

can  have  no  letters,  no  newspapers,  no  tele- 
grams, where  the  ring  of  the  telephone  bell 
is  never  heard,  and  where  even  Marconi  cannot 
come !  But  at  least,  do  your  best  to  forget ! 
Forget  your  business !  Forget  your  debts ! 
And  forget  your  debtors !  Forget  that  in  this 
world  is  suffering,  sickness,  or  sin.  Only  remem- 
ber that  the  sun  shines  for  you ;  the  moonlight 
and  the  starbeams  are  for  you;  the  tides  ebb  and 
flow  for  you ;  the  gorse  upon  the  hillside,  the 
purple  heather,  and  the  fields  which  stand  dressed 
in  living  green,  are  all  for  you.  The  earth,  and 
the  air,  and  the  sky  are  yours,  and  Christ  is  yours, 
and  God  is  yours,  and  all  this  God  is  all  your  own, 
your  Father  and  your  Friend ! 


THE   NOBLE    LIVING   AND   THE    NOBLE 
DEAD 


There  is 
One  great  society  alone  on  earth. 
The  noble  living  and  the  noble  dead, 

— WOEDSWORTH. 


THE  NOBLE  LIVING  AND  THE  NOBLE 
DEAD 

"  Into  thine  hand  I  commend  my  spirit." — Psalm  xxxi.  5. 

These  were  the  last  words  spoken  by  our  Lord 
before  His  death.  He  was  mighty  in  the  Scrip- 
tures. He  loved  the  Psalms.  The  rich  devo- 
tional spirit  of  the  great  poets  of  His  race  was 
kindred  with  His  own.  Alike  in  controversy 
and  in  prayer,  their  words  were  ever  upon  His 
lips.  Living,  they  were  to  Him  an  inspiration ; 
dying,  His  last  utterance  was  quoted  from  a 
Psalm.  For  millions  of  men,  the  Book  of 
Psalms  has  been  hallowed  by  the  fondness  of  Jesus 
for  it. 

Our  Lord  quoted  from  the  thirty-first  Psalm. 
But  as  the  ancient  poet  spoke  it,  the  prayer  had 
reference  not  to  death,  but  to  life.  He  does  not 
ask  that  God  will  care  for  him  in  death,  but  pro- 
tect him  now  in  the  midst  of  distress,  pain,  and 
fear.  Troubles  compass  him  around.  Anxiety, 
danger,  conflict,  have  wrecked  his  health.  His 
eye  is  wasted  by  grief;  soul  and  body  are  en- 
feebled; sorrow  seems  to  have  gnawed  into 
his  bones ;  his  life  is  in  peril.  It  is  impossible  not 
to  think  of  Jeremiah;  of  the  imprisonment,  the 
stocks,  the  scourging.     Perhaps  our  poet  thought 

83 


84     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

of  him,  too.  He  describes  his  loneliness,  the 
desertion  of  those  who  knew  him,  the  cowardice 
of  those  who  should  have  stood  by  him.  There 
are  three  groups  of  feeble  souls  whose  weakness 
has  done  him  wrong.  He  is  a  "  reproach " 
to  his  neighbours — because  of  the  multitude  and 
the  power  of  his  adversaries  his  "  neighbours  " 
reproach  him.  He  is  a  "  fear  "  to  his  "  acquaint- 
ance " — how  should  they  dare  befriend  him, 
champion  his  cause,  even  show  sympathy  with 
him,  in  the  face  of  threats  and  hatred.''  And  as 
for  the  larger,  wider  world,  "  they  that  did  see 
me  without,"  they  fly  from  him  as  if  he  were  a 
leper.  And  his  prayer  is  the  familiar  prayer 
of  weakness  to  Almightiness.  He  prays  for 
deliverance  from  immediate  and  pressing  dangers ; 
for  the  sunshine  of  God's  presence ;  and  for  per- 
manent good  issue  from  his  fears.  Then  his 
faith  pierces  the  future ;  he  looks  for  a  time  when 
wisdom  shall  be  justified  upon  the  earth ;  when 
the  voices  of  hate  shall  be  silenced  and  lying 
lips  be  dumb.  As  for  himself,  he  can  rest  in  the 
assurance  that  God  rules  over  all ;  "  my  times  are 
in  Thy  hand  " — the  monuments,  chances,  changes, 
kaleidoscopic,  unimaginable,  God  controls,  and  he 
is  content.  Into  God's  hands  he  commends  his 
spirit. 

Times  of  trouble  will  come  to  us  all.  The 
hour  of  darkness,  loss,  and  trial  waits  for  every 
one  of  us.  In  the  form  In  which  sorrow  struck  this 
man  It  will  not  strike  us.  The  form  is  a  thing 
indifferent.     The  fact  Is  real.     One  day,  sorrow 


NOBLE    LIVING    AND    NOBLE    DEAD     85 

will  break  over  our  soul  in  storm,  its  thunders 
will  crash  around  us,  and  we  shall  feel  ourselves 
alone.  The  experience  of  the  race,  as  humanity 
has  trodden  its  path  of  sorrow,  will  not  make 
our  own  grief  lighter.  Each  one  of  us  will  say, 
"  there  is  no  sorrow  like  my  sorrow,"  and  the 
suffering  which  strikes  us,  though  the  same 
suffering  has  fallen  upon  men  since  man's  life 
began  upon  this  planet,  will  seem  to  us  an  iso- 
lated and  abnormal  wonder.  "  Never  morning 
wore  to  evening,  but  some  heart  did  break." 
Yet  to  dream  that  because  "  such  loss  is  common 
to  the  race  "  it  is  less  charged  with  elements  of 
despair,  is  to  proclaim  oneself  ignorant  of  the 
human  heart. 

Common  is  the  commonplace, 

And  vacant  chaflf  well  meant  for  grain. 

We  must  not  darken  the  present  by  anticipa- 
tions of  the  clouds  which  will  one  day  gather. 
But  we  can  prepare  for  ourselves  a  shelter  against 
the  impending  storm;  we  can  find  in  God  a  sure 
refuge  and  defence. 

Where  will  you  find  relief  from  sorrow,  rest  in 
weariness,  comfort  in  bereavement,  inspiration 
when  your  own  strength  is  utter  feebleness,  if 
not  in  God?  I  have  no  answer  to  such  a  question. 
I  have  found  no  answer  in  the  lives  of  men  I 
know.  I  have  found  none  in  my  own.  I  under- 
stand the  man  who  finds  God  to  be  his  "  fortress  " 
and  his  "  high  tower."  I  understand  him  who 
jfinds  that  God  "  is  a  very  present  help  in  time 


86  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

of  trouble."  As  perfectly  as  I  am  able  to  under- 
stand anything  or  anybody,  I  understand  him 
who  finds  that  "  The  eternal  God  is  our  dwelling- 
place,  and  underneath  are  the  everlasting  arms." 
But  I  do  not  understand  what  relief  from  the 
sorrows  of  life  is  to  be  found  outside  God.  As 
to  that,  my  mind  is  a  blank. 

The  nearest  approach  to  the  consolations  of 
God,  of  which  I  can  think,  is  the  fellowship  of 
noble  and  inspiring  minds.  I  know  a  man  who 
carries  about  with  him  a  pocket  edition  of  Epic- 
tetus,  as  others  carry  their  New  Testament. 
How  many  devout  souls  have  found  consolation 
and  strength  in  the  author  of  Thomas  a  Kempis, 
in  Pascal,  in  George  Herbert?  And  amongst 
moderns,  Wordsworth,  Tennyson,  Browning,  have 
been  as  ministering  spirits  to  hundreds  of  us 
who  have  gathered  here  this  morning.  Matthew 
Arnold  said  of  Wordsworth : 

Time  may  restore  us  in  her  course 
Goethe's  sage  mind  and  Byron's  force. 
But  where  will  Europe's  latter  hour 
Again  find  Wordsworth's  healing  power? 

John  Morley  endorses  that.  And  many  of  uS, 
for  many  years,  have  opened  our  souls  to  the 
inflow  of  Wordsworth's  healing  power.  There 
are  men  and  women  here  to  whom  the  great 
thoughts  and  words  of  Alfred  Tennyson  have 
been  as  the  very  breath  of  life.  Lines  from  "  In 
Memoriam "  have  become  part  of  our  essential 
being.     While  the  magnificence,  the  virility,  the 


NOBLE    LIVING    AND    NOBLE    DEAD      87 

uplifting    and     ennobling     strength     of     Robert 
Browning  have,  for  others  of  us,  become  a  part 
of  Nature's   wealth,    and   in   that   glad   opulence 
we    are    rich.     These    approach,    and    sometimes 
approach  nearly,  the  consolations  of  God.     Why? 
Because  these  men  themselves  have  drawn  man  to 
'God.     Because  they  repeat  what  they  have  heard 
from  Him.     Because  they  reflect  the  glory  which 
has  shone  from  Him.     Because  they  have  thought 
His  thoughts   after  Him,  and  repeated  them   in 
glad,   good   words   to   us.     They   have   seen   His 
face,   and  it  is   the   after-shine   of  His   presence 
which  gleams  on  our  path.     It  is  His  presence 
— adumbrated;  His  essence — diluted;  His  words, 
as  best  understood — repeated;  His  voice — echoed 
by    their    great   tuneful   voices,    which   bring   us 
strength.     "  They  are  but  broken  lights  of  Thee, 
and  Thou,  O  Lord,  art  more  than  they."     There 
is  a  Mount  of  Transfiguration  for  every  one  of  us. 
From  its  heights,  each  beholds  the  heavenly  vision. 
There   is    a   beautiful,   pathetic    story    told   by 
Dr.   Stalker  in  his  "  Trial  and  Death  of  Jesus 
Christ."     I  wish  he  had  been   able  to   give   the 
names  of  those  concerned,  or  at  least,  one  name. 
But  Dr.    Stalker   guarantees  the   story   as   true. 
This  is  the  story,  as  he  quotes  it  from  a  private 
diary : 

"  I  remember,  when  I  was  a  student,  visiting 
a  dying  man.  He  had  been  in  the  University 
with  me,  but  a  few  years  ahead ;  and  at  the  close 
of  a  brilliant  career  in  College,  he  was  appointed 


88  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

to  a  Professorship  of  Philosophy  in  a  Colonial 
University.  But,  after  a  very  few  years,  he  fell 
into  bad  health;  and  he  came  home  to  Scotland 
to  die.  It  was  a  summer  Sunday  afternoon 
when  I  called  to  see  him,  and  it  happened  that 
I  was  able  to  offer  him  a  drive.  His  great  frame 
was  with  difficulty  got  into  the  open  carriage ; 
but  then  he  lay  back  comfortably  and  was  able 
to  enjoy  the  fresh  air.  Two  other  friends  were 
with  him  that  day — college  companions,  who 
had  come  out  from  the  city  to  visit  him.  On  the 
way  back  they  dropped  into  the  rear,  and  I  was 
alone  beside  him,  when  he  began  to  talk  with 
appreciation  of  their  friendship  and  kindness. 
'  But,'  he  said,  '  do  you  know  what  they  have 
been  doing  all  day?  '  I  could  not  guess.  '  Well, 
they  have  been  reading  to  me  "  Sartor  Resartus  " ; 
and,  oh !  I  am  awfully  tired  of  it.'  Then,  turning 
on  me  his  large  eyes,  he  began  to  repeat,  '  This  is 
a  faithful  saying,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation, 
that  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners, 
of  whom  I  am  chief ' ;  and  then  he  added,  with 
great  earnestness,  *  There  is  nothing  else  of  any 
use  to  me  now.' " 

There  is  nothing  else  of  use  to  us,  when  our 
eyes  are  opened  to  the  eternal  world,  the  real 
world,  the  abiding  world,  when  sorrow  dims  the 
lustre  of  visible  things  and  grief  rends  the  veil  of 
the  invisible;  there  is  nothing  else  for  us  but 
God.  And  there  is  no  answer  to  my  question, 
Where  will  you  find  the  help  which  you  need  for 


NOBLE    LIVING    AND    NOBLE    DEAD     89 

life's  conflicts  and  crosses,  if  you  find  it  not  in 
God?  For  lack  of  such  a  refuge,  life  is  often 
darkened  into  tragedy.  Dissipation  ;  evil  courses ; 
abandonment; — these  are  too  frequently  the  ref- 
uge of  the  breaking  heart.  And  even  when  the 
more  gross  and  shameful  sins  are  missing,  what  a 
miserable  spectacle  is  that  carping,  petulant, 
wrecked  old  age,  on  which  we  look  with  pity,  dis- 
gust, and  fear,  "  the  last  scene  of  all  that  ends 
this  strange  eventful  history,  second  childishness, 
and  then  oblivion " !  Contrast  that  "  seventh 
age "  of  man  with  Paul's  great  invocation, — ■ 
"  Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  the  Father  of  mercies  and  God  of 
all  comfort ;  who  comf orteth  us  in  all  our  afflic- 
tion that  we  may  be  able  to  comfort  them  that  are 
in  any  affliction,  through  the  comfort  wherewith 
we  ourselves  are  comforted  of  God ! "  Divine 
tautology  of  faith  and  love ! 

But  now  I  want  you  to  observe  how  men  have 
used  these  great  and  simple  words  when  they 
have  stood  In  the  presence  of  death.  It  must 
be  safe  to  say  that  millions  have  died  with  them 
upon  their  Hps.  At  least,  some  of  the  most 
notable  and  fruitful  deaths  of  which  history  has 
taken  note  are  signalised  by  the  repetition  of  these 
words  when  life  was  well-nigh  ended. 

When  the  murderers  of  Thomas  a  Becket 
broke  in  upon  his  devotions  in  Canterbury 
Cathedral,  the  Archbishop  faced  them  boldly. 
They  struck  at  him  and  drew  blood.  Becket  had 
strength  to  wipe  the  stain  from  his  face,  spoke 


90  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

these  deathless  words,  "  Lord,  into  thine  hand  I 
commend  my  spirit,"  received  the  fatal  thrusts, 
and  died. 

Christopher  Columbus,  deserted,  broken,  sorrow- 
ful, disgraced,  beside  his  bed  the  chains  in  which 
ingratitude  and  treachery  had  dared  to  fetter 
the  Admiral  of  the  Sea,  in  a  wretched  lodging, 
breathed  out  his  life  with  these  words  upon  his 
lips,  "  Lord,  into  thine  hand  I  commend  my 
spirit." 

I  have  stood  in  Constance  where  John  Huss 
stood  when  they  clothed  him  with  the  sacerdotal 
robes,  only  to  strip  them  from  him  and  degrade 
him.  They  thrust  into  his  hand  the  chalice, 
gave  him  the  last  opportunity  to  abjure  his 
heresies,  and  when  he  refused,  said,  "  O  accursed 
Judas,  we  take  from  thee  this  cup  filled  with  the 
blood  of  Jesus  Christ ! "  And  he  replied,  "  But 
I  hope,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  that  this  very 
day  I  shall  drink  of  His  cup  in  His  own  kingdom." 
They  placed  on  his  head  a  paper  cap,  in  shape 
like  a  mitre,  on  which  were  painted  hideous 
pictures  of  demons  and  flames.  "  Most  joyfully," 
said  Huss,  "  will  I  wear  this  cap  of  shame  for  thy 
sake,  O  Jesus,  who  for  me  didst  wear  a  crown 
of  thorns."  Then  the  priests  said,  "  Now  we 
devote  thy  soul  to  the  devil."  And  Huss,  lifting 
up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  said,  "  But  I  do  commend 
my  spirit  into  thy  hands,  O  Lord  Jesus,  for  Thou 
hast  redeemed  me."  They  led  him  outside  the 
city  to  a  green  and  peaceful  meadow.  They 
bound  him  to   the  stake.     As  he  lifted  his  eyes 


NOBLE    LIVING    AND    NOBLE    DEAD     91 

to  the  sweet  sky  above  him,  the  paper  mitre  fell 
from  his  head.  One  of  the  soldiers  rushed  for- 
ward and  replaced  it,  saying  that  Huss  must 
be  burned  with  the  devils  whom  he  served. 
They  kindled  the  flames  round  him.  I  have 
stood  by  the  stone  which  marks  the  spot  of  his 
agony  and  his  triumph,  and  have  thought  that  I 
could  hear  again  the  words  which  once  more 
he  spoke  before  his  Hps  were  still  in  death, 
"Into  thine  hand  I  commend  my  spirit."  Ten 
months  later,  his  brilliant  friend,  Jerome  of 
Prague,  was  burned  on  the  same  spot,  on  his 
dying  lips  the  same  words,  "  Into  thine  hand  I 
commend  my  spirit." 

Thirteen  times  tortured  with  the  frightful 
torture  instruments  of  that  day,  Robert  South- 
well, priest,  Jesuit,  poet,  after  spending  three 
years  in  a  filthy  prison  cell,  was  carted  from 
Newgate  to  Tyburn  with  a  rope  round  his  neck. 
He  stood  up,  with  pinioned  hands,  and  as  the  cart 
was  being  drawn  from  under  him  that  he  might 
hang,  still  repeated,  "Into  thine  hand  I  com- 
mend my  spirit." 

Luther  and  Melanchthon  both  died  in  their 
beds,  both  passing  into  the  nearer  presence  of 
God  with  these  faintly  spoken  words  as  prayer, 
"  Into  thine  hand  I  commend  my  spirit." 

George  Wishart  was  roasted  at  the  foot  of 
the  sea-tower  of  St.  Andrews.  He  kissed  the 
executioner  upon  the  cheek,  as  a  sign  that  he 
forgave  him,  and  died  as  he  murmured,  "  Into 
thine    hand    I    commend    my    spirit."     Twenty- 


92  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

five  years  later,  his  disciple,  the  man  who  came 
after  him,  who  was  greater  than  he,  whose  iron 
will,  stormy  eloquence,  and  noble  life  had  saved 
Scotland  from  Rome  for  ever,  John  Knox,  died 
triumphant  and  in  peace  in  his  own  house  at 
Edinburgh,  but  his  dying  words  were  the  same, 
"  Into  thine  hand  I  commend  my  spirit." 

Egmont  and  Horn,  in  whose  deaths  began 
the  unquenchable  revolts  of  the  Netherlands, 
before  whose  monument  in  Brussels  so  many 
of  us  have  stood,  and  wondered  and  admired, 
knelt  to  receive  the  headsman's  stroke,  each 
repeating  these  self-same  words,  "  Into  thine  hand 
I  commend  my  spirit." 

An  old,  old  man,  John  Fisher,  Bishop  of 
Rochester,  Cardinal  of  the  Roman  Church,  doomed 
to  death  by  Henry  VIII.,  neither  his  great  learn- 
ing, his  pure  and  simple  life,  nor  his  public  services 
availing  to  save  him,  in  his  decrepit  old  age,  so 
weak  that  he  could  scarcely  stand,  carried  to  the 
scaffold,  "with  the  joyful  mien  of  a  man  who 
receives  the  boon  for  which  he  craves,"  prepared  to 
receive  the  stroke  of  the  axe,  still  murmuring  these 
immortal  words,  "  Into  thine  hand  I  commend  my 
spirit." 

A  fair,  young  girl.  Lady  Jane  Grey,  when  she 
saw  the  block  on  which  she  was  to  die,  said, 
"  I  pray  you  despatch  me  quickly."  She  tied 
the  handkerchief  about  her  eyes,  then,  feeling 
for  the  block,  said,  "What  shall  I  do.?  Where 
is  it.? "  One  of  the  bystanders,  guiding  her 
thereto,    she    laid   her    head    upon    it   and    said. 


NOBLE    LIVING    AND    NOBLE    DEAD     93 

"  Lord,   into  thine  hand  I  commend  my   spirit." 
And  so  she  ended.* 

All  these  died  in  faith.  And  of  how  many 
of  the  obscure,  the  silent,  and  the  dead,  of  whom 
history  makes  no  mention,  of  whom  the  world 
was  not  worthy,  might  not  the  same  record  be 
made.f*  Their  names  are  not  written  in  the 
Book  of  Heralds ;  they  are  in  the  Lamb's  Book 
of  Life.  Catholics  and  Protestants,  Fighters  and 
Preachers,  Men  of  Thought  and  Men  of  Action, 
old  and  young,  world-weary  old  men  and  gentle 
girls  in  the  beauty  of  dawning  womanhood — 
they  lived  and  died  and  live  again  in  God. 

There  are  one  or  two  question  which  I  fain 
would  have  you  answer  to  yourselves,  If  you  will. 
And  the  first  is  this:  Has  anything  happened 
of  late  years  to  make  this  God,  in  whom  the  one 
great  Society  of  the  noble  Hving  and  the  noble 
dead  has  believed,  less  real,  less  sure,  for  us.-* 

There  are  times  when  scepticism  seems  to  be 
approaching  a  world-wide  triumph,  when  men 
fear  that  if  the  Son  of  Man  were  to  return  He 
would  scarce  find  faith  upon  the  earth.  In  the 
first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century,  Bishop 
Butler  complained  that  it  had  come  to  be  taken 
for  granted  by  many  persons  that  Christianity 
was  not  even  so  much  as  a  proper  subject  of 
inquiry,  but  that  it  was  at  length  discovered 
to  be  fictitious.      That  period  was   followed  by 

*  All  these  cases,  and  many  more,  are  recorded  in  various 
chapters  of  "  The  Psalms  in  Human  Life,"  by  R.  E. 
Prothero. 


94     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

the  Methodist  revival  wliich  saved  England  from 
hell.  We  who  have  reached  middle-age  re- 
member that  when  we  were  boys  Bradlaugh- 
materialism  stormed  at  the  doors  of  the  Churches ; 
while,  a  little  later,  perhaps,  a  cultivated  Agnosti- 
cism sneered  politely  at  our  old-fashioned  faith. 
We  have  lived  to  see  Bradlaugh-materialism 
abandoned,  repudiated,  forgotten — until  whipped 
into  spasmodic  pretence  of  life  for  a  year  or 
two  years  by  an  erratic  journalist — and  the  deep 
thought  and  high  culture  of  our  time  turning 
again  to  God.  No  atheistic  movement  has  the 
slightest  evil  influence  upon  the  general  progress 
of  religion  in  the  world.  Individuals  are  affected. 
Individuals  lose  their  heads.  They  lose  their 
faith.  They  are  lost  to  name  and  fame  and  use. 
For  them  it  is  great,  sad  loss.  But  the  human 
heart  cries  out  its  need  of  God;  the  weary  soul 
comes  back  to  Christ.  Has  anything  happened, 
for  the  need  is  greater,  to  make  the  hope  less  sure? 
In  two  conspicuous  particulars  is  our  world 
different  from  that  old  world  in  which  our  fathers 
lived.  We  have  seen  born,  grow,  flourish,  a 
literary  criticism  of  the  Bible.  What  has  that 
done  for  us?  It  has  made  the  Bible  more  real, 
more  precious,  in  the  deepest  sense,  more  true, 
its  men  and  women  realer  flesh  and  blood, 
human  brain  and  immortal  spirit,  than  ever 
before.  It  is  more  emphatically  a  true  Book, 
it  is  more  vitally  the  Book  of  God.  For  our 
teachers,  who  are  experts,  and  for  us  who  are 
only  students,  literary  criticism  of  the  Bible  has 


NOBLE  LIVING  AND  NOBLE  DEAD  95 

made  us  understand  our  Bible  better  and  love  it 
more. 

We  have  seen  born,  grow,  flourish,  a  new. 
philosophy  of  the  universe.  We  have  adopted, 
on  evidence  and  authority  which  seem  acceptable 
to  our  reason,  the  evolutionary  account  of  the 
"becoming"  of  things.  And  with  what  result .!* 
Why,  that  instead  of  looking  for  a  lonely,  solitary 
God,  who  sits  outside  the  universe,  watching 
it  go,  we  have  found  a  God  immanent  in  all  things, 
in  all  life,  a  God  around  us,  within  us,  who  is 
the  life  of  all  things,  in  whom  we  live  and  move 
and  have  our  being.  This  God  has  Jesus  taught 
us  to  call  Father,  and  he  who  seeks  Him  finds. 

Nothing  has  happened  to  make  this  God  less 
real,  less  sure. 

Then,  that  which  has  been  the  inspiration  of 
heroic  lives,  their  strength,  their  hope,  their 
comfort,  their  joy:  is  this  not  worth  having  now? 
Trouble  will  come.  Sorrow  will  strike.  Strength 
will  ebb.  The  hour  of  loneliness  and  darkness 
waits.  These  men  whom  I  have  named,  and 
millions  more,  have  indisputably  found  some- 
where, somehow,  strength  and  comfort,  inspira- 
tion and  hope.     Is  it  no  longer  worth  possessing? 

Two  things  may  be  answered  in  objection. 
One  is  that  "  we  have  had  to  give  up  many 
beliefs  which  our  fathers  held;  and  it  is  no 
warrant  of  the  truth  of  a  proposition  to  say  that 
some  of  the  great  characters  of  history  believed  in 
it.  Every  man  living,  who  thinks  at  all,  has 
abandoned     some     things     which     our     fathers 


96  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

thought."  Yes ;  if  that  objection  had  not  been 
actually  put  to  me  in  so  many  words  I  should 
have  suspected  myself  of  inventing  it  for  the 
sake  of  answering  it,  so  entirely  does  it  lead 
back  to  my  plea.  Why  have  we  abandoned 
ideas,  behefs,  opinions,  which  for  ages  have  been 
current  amongst  men?  They  have  been  displaced 
hy  something  richer,  more  fruitful,  grander. 
What  is  to  displace  the  faith  in  God  which  has 
made  and  kept  men  great.?  What  is  the  richer, 
more  fruitful,  grander  inspiration  than  that  of 
trust  in  Him.''  What  message,  better  than 
that  of  Christ,  shall  I  take  to  the  dying  soul.? 
Whose  words,  richer  than  His,  shall  I  speak  to  a 
breaking  heart.?  I  will  abandon  this  old-world 
belief  with  no  regret  when  I  have  a  truer  to  put 
in  its  place.  But  until  then,  to  whom  shall  I 
go  but  unto  Christ.?  He  has  the  words  of  eternal 
life. 

And  the  other  thing  is  this.  It  may  be  said, 
"  But  still  we  cannot  believe.  And  while  we 
do  not  believe  it  true,  we  cannot  profess  that  we 
do."  Then  is  it  not  a  loss,  a  real  loss,  to  you.? 
And  should  you  not  so  regard  it.?  I  would 
not  boast  of  it  if  I  were  you.  I  would  not  pose 
as  a- gainer,  when  I  was  a  loser  of  that  which 
to  better  men  than  myself  had  been  the  one 
possession  which  made  life  worth  living.  I 
would  not  glory ;  I  would  mourn.  And  I  pray 
you,  consider  whether  it  would  not  be  well  to 
seek  again  this  precious  treasure  of  a  faith  that 
braces,  nerves,  comforts,  inspires,  brings  heaven 


NOBLE    LIVING    AND    NOBLE    DEAD     97 

down  to  earth.  That  is  wisdom.  And  he  who 
willeth  to  do  His  will  shall  know  of  the  teaching, 
whether  it  be  of  God.  The  promise  stands. 
"  If  ye  abide  in  Mj  word  ...  ye  shall 
knoy^  the  truth,  and  the  truth  shall  make  you 
free." 

Strength  is  not  to  be  discovered  in  a  flash 
in  the  moment  when  trouble  comes.  It  has  to 
be  accumulated  beforehand.  When  the  storm 
comes  you  cannot  build  your  refuge.  You 
must  build  it  in  the  daylight,  when  the  sun 
shines.  When  friends  turn  away  from  you, 
and  you  are  very  sad  and  weak  and  lonely, 
when  a  mysterious  illness  paralyses  the  activities 
of  which  you  were  so  proud,  and  you,  who, 
when  you  were  young,  moved  as  you  would, 
now  must  be  bound  and  carried  where  men  will, 
or  must  go  softly  all  the  days  that  remain, 
waiting  for  death  as  release,  you  cannot  conceive 
and  create  and  produce  out  of  nothing  the 
radiant  faith  from  which  is  bom  an  inexhaustible 
hope  and  an  unfailing  strength!  It  is  our 
yesterdays  which  empty  themselves  into  our 
to-day.  In  youth,  young  manhood,  robust 
maturity,  we  have  laid  hold  on  God.  In  the 
hour  of  our  need  He  keeps  His  loving  hold  on  us. 
Learn  the  lesson,  dear  ones !  To-day,  ask,  and 
it  shall  be  given  you;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find; 
knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you. 

Of  this  splendid  faith,  the  ordinance  of  Baptism 
which  we  are  about  to  observe  is  the  symbol 
and  the  pledge.     To  see  this  rite  as  Jesus  saw 


98     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

it,  no  act  of  human  life  could  be  more  solemn, 
none  greater,  none  fraught  with  mightier  mean- 
ing for  the  soul.  With  these  words  upon  our 
lips  we  go  down  into  the  Baptismal  waters, 
"  Lord,  into  thine  hand  I  commend  my  spirit," 
with  these  upon  our  heart  we  rise  to  walk  in 
newness  of  life.  It  is  not  for  death  but  for  life 
we  speak  them,  not  from  the  depths  of  despair 
but  from  the  heights  of  vision,  rapture,  con- 
secration. With  the  glorious  company  of  the 
Apostles,  the  goodly  fellowship  of  the  Prophets, 
the  noble  army  of  Martyrs,  we  commend  our 
spirits  to  God.  Yet  our  steps  do  not  lead  to 
torture,  the  scaffold,  or  the  stake,  nor  are  our 
eyes  closing  in  death.  No ;  but  in  strength  and 
hope  and  joy,  in  the  power  and  pride  of  life,  with 
work  to  do  for  men  and  praise  to  win  from  God, 
with  free  minds  to  serve  Him  and  warm  hearts  to 
love  Him,  we  speak  the  old,  heroic  vow,  "  Lord, 
into  thine  hand  I  commend  my  spirit." 


VI 

THE    JUDGMENT    DAYS    OF    GOD 


The  grand  question  still  remains,  Was  the  judgment  just? 
If  unjust,  it  will  not  and  cannot  get  harbour  for  itself,  or 
continue  to  have  footing  in  this  Universe,  which  was  made 
by  other  than  One  Unjust.  From  all  souls  of  men,  from  all 
ends  of  Nature,  from  the  throne  of  God  above,  there  are 
voices  bidding  it.  Away,  away!  Does  it  take  no  warning; 
does  it  stand,  strong  in  its  three  readings,  in  its  gibbets  and 
artillery-parks?  The  more  woe  is  to  it,  the  frightfuUer  woe. 
It  will  continue  standing  for  its  day,  for  its  year,  for  its 
century,  doing  evil  all  the  while;  but  it  has  one  Enemy  who 
is  Almighty:  dissolution,  explosion,  and  the  everlasting  laws 
of  Nature  incessantly  advance  towards  it;  and  the  deeper 
its  rooting,  more  obstinate  its  continuing,  the  deeper  also 
and  huger  will  its  ruin  and  overturn  be, 

— Thomas  Carlyle. 


VI 
THE   JUDGMENT  DAYS   OF  GOD 

"  Now  is  the  judgment  of  this  world;  now  shall  the  prince 
of  this  world  be  cast  out." — John  xii.  31. 

This  men  do  not  believe.  Judgment  has  been 
thrust  back  to  some  time  and  place  beyond  the 
grave.  We  think  judgment  belongs  to  the  end 
of  the  world.  But  Christ  taught  another  view. 
Now  is  the  judgment — here  and  now.  And 
because  judgment  is  already  at  work,  the  casting 
out  of  the  prince  of  this  world — which  has 
already  begun — is  sure.  Judgment  is:  the  cast- 
ing out  shall  he.  All  the  methods  of  God  are 
gradual.  Evolution  is  always  His  plan.  In  the 
building  of  the  petals  of  a  flower,  as  in  the  forma- 
tion of  beds  of  coal ;  in  the  redemption  of  a  single 
soul,  as  in  the  wide-spread  triumph  of  His  truth, 
He  moves  by  slow  and  ordered  steps.  The  Great 
White  Throne  is  already  set ;  swiftly,  though  seem- 
ing slow  to  our  impatient  gaze,  His  angels  are 
bringing  before  Him  all  things  that  cause  stum- 
bling ;  the  nations  are  gathering  from  the  East  and 
from  the  West;  we  are  all  standing  before  the 
Judgment  Seat  of  God,  and  very  surely  the  prince 
of  this  world  shall  be  cast  out. 

But  it  is  a  different  kind  of  judgment  which 
has  appealed  to  the  imagination  of  Christendom. 

101 


102  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

And  although  men  do  not  to-day  beheve  that  any 
such  judgment  as  that  which  has  been  pictured 
to  them  in  past  ages  will  ever  really  take  place, 
they  still  believe  that  they  believe  what  has 
become  incredible  to  them.  Between  that  which 
men  believe  with  a  realising  earnestness,  in  such  a 
way  that  it  becomes  a  part  of  their  intelLectual 
and  spiritual  make-up  and  profoundly  influences 
their  actions  and  their  character,  and  that  which 
they  merely  hold  as  a  doctrine  put  before  them 
by  creeds  or  by  society,  which  they  have  never 
analysed,  never  absorbed,  never  made  their  own, 
we  need  always  to  distinguish.  And  in  this  loose, 
unrealised  way  men  still  suppose  that  they  believe 
in  a  future  judgment.  It  has,  however,  grown 
unthinkable  to  them ;  and  when  once  they  begin  to 
think  they  repudiate  it.  But  the  true  view  of 
judgment,  the  Scriptural  view,  the  view  held  and 
taught  by  our  Lord,  still  needs  elucidation  and 
enforcement. 

The  old  conception  of  the  Judgment  is  best 
seen  in  the  great  paintings  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
those  paintings  which  constitute,  really,  the 
literature  of  an  age  which  had  no  literature  as 
we  understand  it.  In  Munich  there  is  a  hateful 
picture  by  Rubens  of  Christ  threatening  a 
ruined  world.  He  is  hurling  the  lightnings 
down  upon  the  globe,  with  its  crowds  of  shivering, 
shuddering  wretches  cowering  before  Him.  St. 
Francis  is  there,  seeking  to  restrain  His  fury. 
Mary  is  there,  baring  her  breast  and  appealing 
to  the  fact  of  her  motherhood  that  she  may  win 


THE    JUDGMENT    DAYS    OF    GOD     103 

Him  to  mercy!  But  the  two  pictures  which 
have  most  greatly  impressed  the  mind  of  Europe 
are  Orcagna's,  in  the  Campo  Santo  of  Pisa,  and 
the  terrible  production  of  Michael  Angelo's 
genius  at  Rome.  The  first  dates  from  the 
fourteenth  century;  Angelo's  comes  two  hundred 
years  after.  Michael  Angelo's  picture  has 
numerous  features  of  Orcagna's,  and  it  has 
many  added  atrocities  which  are  all  its  own. 
An  angry  Christ  stands  pointing  with  His  left 
hand  towards  the  wound  which  the  spear  had 
made  in  His  side;  His  right  arm  is  lifted  to 
strike  and  sweep  away  the  crushed  and  agonised 
figures  at  His  feet.  Angels  bring  in  the  cross 
on  which  He  suffered,  the  scourge,  the  crown 
of  thorns,  to  fire  His  hate  and  vengeance! 
The  martyrs  produce  the  evidence  of  their 
sufferings  with  the  same  purpose  of  assuring 
the  condemnation  of  their  persecutors.  The 
lost  are  driven  backwards  by  fighting  angels, 
who  force  them  into  the  pit;  demons  drag  them 
into  the  abyss.  Orcagna  paints  "  the  monstrous 
hell  of  mediaeval  fancy.  It  is  represented  in  all 
its  cruel  and  brutal  realism,  a  slaughter-house  of 
everlasting  vivisection,  a  reeking  hotbed  of 
abhorrent  atrocities,  in  every  sense  of  the  word 
revolting  and  abominable."  Angelo's  is  "  a  hor- 
rible nightmare  in  colour."  * 

Modified,   necessarily,   by  the  nobler   spirit   of 

our  day,  such  a  conception  is  the  one  that  starts 

before    us    when    we    use   the    words,    "  the   Last 

Judgment."     We    do    not    think    of    the    bestial 

*  Farrar's  "  Christ  in  Art." 


104  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

horrors  which  appealed  to  the  fancy  of  these 
old  painters;  but  we  do  think  of  a  spectacular 
assize,  a  great  glorified  Old  Bailey,  Jesus  Christ 
the  presiding  Judge.  And  against  that  tradi- 
tional view  needs  to  be  set  the  real  teaching  of  the 
Scriptures  and  of  Christ  concerning  the  judg- 
ment of  the  world. 

Misconceptions  of  the  nature  of  the  judgment 
of  the  world  are  bound  up  with  misunderstandings 
of  the  Second  Coming  of  Christ.  The  Scriptural 
teaching  concerning  the  judgment  can  best  be 
studied  in  connection  with  its  utterances  upon  the 
Second  Coming. 

The  early  Church,  as  we  know,  believed  that 
the  coming  of  the  Lord  was  near.  The  disciples 
looked  for  an  immediate  appearing.  Home  and 
business  were  neglected;  minds  ran  riot  in  the 
expectation  of  the  immediate  end  of  the  world. 
The  Apostle  Paul  needed  to  tell  the  members 
of  the  Thessalonian  community  that  they  had 
better  study  to  be  quiet,  and  mind  their  own 
business.  The  extravagances  into  which  their 
belief  led  them  were  many  and  gross.  But  the 
gain  was  doubtless  great  as  well,  and  a  tremen- 
dous earnestness  of  faith  was  represented  by 
their  fervent  belief  in  the  early  coming  of  the 
King.  The  Apostles  looked  for  His  coming. 
It  is  the  mere  disingenuous  trick  of  the  con- 
troversialist with  an  untenable  position  to 
maintain  which  leads  to  a  denial  of  this.  The 
Apostles  unquestionably  thought  that  the  end  of 
the  world,  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Christ, 


THE    JUDGMENT    DAYS    OF    GOD     105 

was  near.  In  the  lifetime  of  that  generation 
they  looked  for  the  appearing  of  their  Lord. 
And  Christ  had  repeatedly  spoken  of  His  return 
as  near.  You  cannot  read  His  many  utterances 
without  feeling  that  He  spoke  as  though  He 
must  come  again  while  the  generation  that 
had  known  Him  in  the  flesh  still  lived  upon  the 
earth.  And  what  shall  we  say  of  this  belief  and 
of  this  teaching?  That  Christ  was  in  error? 
Never;  but  that  we  have  misunderstood;  that 
He  meant  what  He  said;  that  He  knew  that 
He  would  come  again ;  that  He  has  come, 
has  fulfilled,  is  fulfilling,  His  word;  that  He  is 
with  us,  ruling  in  our  hearts,  reigning  in  His 
Church,  ordering  the  hosts  of  God,  inspiring  the 
soldiers  of  the  cross,  winning  victory  after  victory 
for  righteousness,  and  truth,  and  love.  Ever 
more  and  more  fully  as  He  perceives  the  wisdom 
and  the  need  He  puts  forth  His  power ;  every 
outpouring  of  beneficent  and  reforming  zeal  is 
the  manifestation  of  His  presence  and  the  asser- 
tion of  His  will.  The  Son  of  Man  is  already 
seated  on  the  throne  of  His  glory.  Now  is  the 
judgment:  now  shall  the  prince  of  this  world  be 
cast  out. 

What  do  we  mean  when  we  speak  of  judgment? 
Or  rather,  what  do  the  Scriptures  mean  when  they 
speak  of  judgment,  and  especially  what  does 
Christ  mean? 

The  first  idea  is  that  of  a  Righteous  Sentence, 
The  Old  Testament  idea,  the  dream  of  the 
prophet    and   the    seer,   lives    in   this    conception. 


106     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

When  the  Hebrew  poet  saw  wrong  triumphant 
and  right  overthrown,  he  yet  looked  for  a  time 
when  a  righteous  sentence,  rewarding  and  punish- 
ing, should  be  pronounced  upon  this  earth.  "  But 
the  Lord,"  he  declared, 

But  the  Lord  sitteth  as  Judge  for  ever: 

He  hath  prepared   His  throne  for  judgment. 

He  shall  judge  the  world  in  righteousness. 

He  shall  minister  judgment  to  the  nations  in  truth. 

Free  from  the  impurity  of  human  tribunals,  their 
partiality,  their  limited  vision,  their  failures  from 
incompetency  and  incompleteness,  the  judgments 
of  the  Lord  should  be  righteous  altogether.  When 
the  King  reigns  in  righteousness  and  the  eyes  of 
them  that  have  oversight  are  no  longer  closed, 
then  the  vile  person  shall  no  more  be  called  noble, 
nor  the  churl  be  said  to  be  bountiful.  Men  may 
judge  by  outward  appearance;  but  the  Lord 
looketh  upon  the  heart. 

Those  of  you  who  have  seen  "  Hamlet "  per- 
formed, especially  if  you  have  seen  it  in  the  hands 
of  men  of  ability  and  character,  have  been,  I  am 
sure,  strangely  impressed  by  the  prayer  which  the 
guilty  king  essays  to  make  as  he  kneels  alone 
on  the  darkened  stage.  With  all  his  soul  crying 
out  for  mercy,  he  seeks  to  assure  himself  that  all 
may  yet  be  well. 

What  if  this  cursed  hand 
Were  thicker  than  itself  with  brother's  blood — 
Is  there  not  rain  enough  in  the  sweet  heavens 
To  wash  it  white  as  snow? 


THE    JUDGMENT    DAYS    OF    GOD     107 

And  yet  he  knows  that  there  is  no  prayer  that 
he  can  offer  hkely  to  be  heard  in  those  "  sweet 
heavens  "  since 

I  am  still  possess'd 
Of  those  effects  for  which  I  did  the  murder — 
My  crown,  mine  own  ambition,  and  my  queen. 

And  then,  with  an  insight  into  the  laws  of  God 
which  is  hke  the  deep  spiritual  vision  of  some 
Old  Testament  saint,  the  conscience-stricken  king 
is  made  to  say: 

In  the  corrupted  currents  of  this  world, 
Offence's  gilded  hand  may  shove  by  justice; 
And  oft  'tis  seen  the  wicked  prize  itself 
Buys  out  the  law:  but  'tis  not  so  above; 
There  is  no  shuffling — there  the  action  lies 
In  his  true  nature;  and  we  ourselves  compell'd. 
Even  to  the  teeth  and  forehead  of  our  faults. 
To  give  in  evidence. 

That  is  a  lesson  we  shall  do  well  to  learn.  You 
may  deceive  those  who  know  you  best;  you 
may  conceal  from  those  that  are  nearest  the  lie 
that  you  are  living;  you  may  cloak  your  shame- 
ful intrigue,  your  self-gratification,  your  double 
dealing,  with  hypocritical  cunning,  but  you  will 
not  deceive  that  Just  Judge.  There  is  no 
shuffling!  There  the  action  lies  in  its  true 
nature!  To-day  you  stand  before  the  judg- 
ment seat  of  God.  He  knows  from  what  vice, 
from  what  cleverly  contrived  dishonesty,  you 
have  risen,  what  sin  you  contemplate  for  to- 
morrow's sun  I 


108  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

The  second  idea  included  in  the  conception 
of  judgment  is  that  of  Retribution  and  Reward — 
the  righteous  execution  of  the  righteous  sentence 
which  the  Just  Judge  has  pronounced.  This  is  of 
the  very  essence  of  judgment;  this  is  a  deep- 
rooted  fact  in  the  experience  of  mankind.  "  God 
does  not  always  pay  wages  on  a  Saturday," 
says  the  homely  proverb.  No ;  but  He  does 
pay  wages,  and  the  wages  of  sin  still  are  death. 
God  needs  no  great  assize,  asks  for  no  public 
prosecutor,  waits  for  no  dramatic  judgment-day. 
Every  act  of  sin  is  self-destructive.  It  carries 
with  it  the  force  for  its  own  revenge.  Not  every 
violation  of  the  law  is  followed  by  a  visible  stroke 
of  retribution;  but  in  the  inmost  being  of  the 
wrong-doer  is  stored  the  potency  of  future 
judgment.  And  these  potencies,  accumulating 
with  the  years,  gaining  in  intensity  and  in  vio- 
lence, prepare  the  inevitable  disaster.  It  may  be 
long  in  coming,  but  it  comes.  You  may  sin 
with  a  high  hand  and  with  determined  purpose. 
You  may  live  as  though  conduct  were  nothing, 
you  may  live  as  though  there  were  no  God. 
But  you  will  find  that  the  universe  is  controlled 
by  a  great  and  righteous  law;  nay,  that  it 
incarnates  that  law  and  executes  its  own  decrees, 
that  fire  and  sword  and  pestilence  and  famine 
are  not  the  only  instruments  of  Divine  admin- 
istration, that  within  yourself  is  the  fountain 
of  suffering,  that 

The  gods  are  just,  and  of  our  pleasant  vices 
Make  instruments  to  scourge  us. 


THE    JUDGMENT    DAYS    OF    GOD     109 

With  men  and  nations  this  law  holds.     Some 
of  you  have  read    Zola's    "  Downfall  "—a  book 
which    ought    to    be    read    by    every    thoughtful 
man  and  woman — and  you  have   seen   how  God 
deals  even  yet  with  a  nation  that  forgets  Him. 
"  The   Downfall "  is   a   work   of   superb    genius, 
of  genius  directed  at  last  to  a  useful  end.     Sedan 
is  the  logical  outcome  of  the  vice  and  crime  of 
the     nation.      The     overthrow     of     the     Second 
Empire,  the  loss   of  provinces,  the    expenditure 
of  hundreds  of  milHons  of  treasure,  the  sacrifice 
of    human    life,    the    outburst    of    revolutionary 
hysteria    when     Paris    demonstrated    the    truth 
that    nations,    like    individuals,     can    quite     go 
mad,  the  orgies  of  cruelty  wherein  wallowed  alike 
both  order  and  anarchy,  the    flaming    city,  the 
humiliated  people,  follow  In  the  way  of  inevitable 
sequence    upon    the    frivohty    and    passion,  the 
greed  of  gold  and  lust  of  the  flesh,  in  which  Paris 
had  dehghted.     And  these,  also,  followed  upon  the 
callousness    and    cynicism    of    other    generations. 
Sedan     and    Paris     are    but    the    "punctuation 
marks,"  as  Dr.  Whiton  would  say,*  pointing  off 
spiritual    periods     in     which    judgment     against 
sin  has  been  recorded,  and  through  which  it  has 
been     approaching    its     outward     consummation. 
This,  too,  is    the    experience    of    the    man    who 
forgets    God.      He  has  been  storing  up  the  ex- 
plosives   which     shall    bring    about    the    great 

*  See  that  most  thoughtful  and  suggestive  study  of  the 
Resurrection  and  the  Judgment,  "Beyond  the  Shadow," 
by  James  M.  Whiton,  Ph.D. 


110     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

catastrophe.  He  is  mined.  Deceit,  treachery, 
cruelty;  a  career  of  gambling,  of  dishonesty; 
reckless  trading  which  has  become  unjustifiable 
speculation,  speculation  which  has  become  brig- 
andage ;  base  slavery  to  passion ;  betrayal  of  the 
Ignorant ;  the  "  sowing  of  the  wild  oats  " ;  the 
service  of  Satan — these  are  judged  in  the  judg- 
ment which  now  is,  the  execution  of  the  sentence 
is  proceeding  in  secret ;  then  comes  ruin — crash- 
ing, complete,  overwhelming! 

First,  the  sentence,  then  the  execution  of  the 
sentence,  third,  the  revelation  to  the  conscience 
of  this  Divine  order  under  which  we  live — this 
is  the  Scriptural  view  of  judgment.  It  Is  not 
enough  that  the  sentence  should  be  righteous, 
and  that  it  should  be  executed  upon  us.  We 
must  perceive  that  this  is  the  judgment  of  the 
Most  High  against  iniquity,  that  we  have 
reached  the  "  day  of  wrath  for  which  we 
have  been  treasuring  up  wrath,  the  day  of 
the  revelation  of  the  righteous  judgment  of 
God." 

The  objection  which  will  occur  to  many  minds 
is  this :  "  All  this  may  be  true,  but  It  in  no  way 
touches  the  question  of  that  future  pictorial 
judgment  which  the  painters  have  tried  to 
depict,  and  in  which  we  have  been  taught  to 
believe.  This  present  judgment  is  doubtless 
a  fact;  but  that  is  no  reason  why  the  future 
judgment  should  not  also  be  a  fact."  No; 
none  whatever.  Future  judgment  is  a  fact, 
but  future  judgment  is  present  judgment  carried 


THE    JUDGMENT    DAYS    OF    GOD     111 

on,  a  development,  a  sequence,  not  a  violent 
break  and  the  establishment  of  a  new  tribunal. 
Will  you  examine  one  or  two  of  those  crucial 
texts  which  have  been  thought  to  point  to  some- 
thing revolutionary  in  the  methods  of  heaven, 
and  to  direct  one's  thoughts  to  a  spectacular  judg- 
ment at  the  end  of  the  world? 

And  this  fact  will  be,  perhaps,  the  first  to 
emerge,  that  Christ  never  once  spoke  of  the  end 
of  the  world — never !  Dozens  of  texts  will  occur 
to  you  immediately  in  which  He  seems  to  speak 
of  it;  but  it  is  only  in  seeming.  Turn  to  the 
explanation  which  the  Saviour  gives  to  His 
disciples  of  the  parable  of  the  sower  (Matt.  xiii.). 
In  the  margin  of  the  Revised  Version  is  found 
the  information  that  the  Saviour  spoke,  not 
of  the  end  of  the  world,  but  of  the  consummation 
of  the  age,  or  of  the  ages.  The  truth  is  that 
there  are  two  Greek  words  which  we  translate 
"  world,"  but  only  one  which  can  mean  the 
physical  world.  That  word — kosmos — Christ 
never  used.  The  other  word — oson — which  may 
be  translated  "  age,"  though  that  does  not  cover 
the  idea,  is  the  one  the  Saviour  employs.  And 
while  He  often  spoke  of  the  end  or  the  con- 
summation of  the  age,  He  said  no  word  about 
the  end  of  the  world.  And  the  phrase  used  by 
Matthew  is  the  phrase  used  by  the  author  of 
the  letter  to  the  Hebrews,  where  clearly  it 
cannot  be  twisted  into  meaning  the  end  of  the 
world,  "  But  now  once,  in  the  consummation 
of  the  ages,  hath  He  appeared  to  put  away  sin 


112  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

by  the  sacrifice  of  Himself."  Moreover,  those 
who  have  been  accustomed  to  think  that  Christ 
spoke  of  the  end  of  the  world  should  observe 
the  definiteness,  the  emphasis,  of  His  great 
saying  in  Matthew  xvi.  27,  28,  "  For  the  Son 
of  Man  shall  come  in  the  glory  of  His  Father  with 
His  angels ;  and  then  shall  He  render  unto  every 
man  according  to  his  deeds.  Verily  I  say  unto 
you,  there  be  some  of  them  that  stand  here  which 
shall  in  no  wise  taste  of  death,  till  they  see  the 
Son  of  Man  coming  in  His  kingdom."  Before 
the  generation  that  had  known  Him  in  the  flesh 
had  passed  away  some  were  to  see  Him  on  the 
throne  of  His  glory.  His  angels  with  Him !  And, 
turning  to  another  famous  passage  (Matt.  xxv. 
31-46),  we  see  Him  setting  forth  with  Divine 
impressiveness  a  scene  of  judgment  which  we 
must  not  try  to  relegate  to  a  spectacular  "  last 
day."  Now  is  the  judgment  of  this  world.  Now 
is  the  Son  of  Man  seated  on  the  throne  of  His 
glory,  now  are  His  angels — all  agencies,  animate 
and  inanimate,  that  make  for  righteousness, 
that  take  up  the  causes  of  stumbling,  that  make 
straight  through  the  dreary  desert  of  sin  and 
suffering  a  highway  for  the  march  of  an  emanci- 
pated people — now  are  His  angels  separating 
the  beneficent  from  the  self-indulgent: 

Some  great  cause,  God's  new  Messiah,  oflfering  each  the 

bloora  or  blight. 
Parts  the  goats  upon  the  left  hand  and  the  sheep  upon 

the  right. 

Now    is    sounding,  deep    down    In    each    man's 


THE    JUDGMENT    DAYS    OF    GOD     113 

consciousness,  though  he  hears  it  not,  the  appalhng 
"  Depart,  ye  cursed,"  the  glorious  "  Come,  ye 
blessed."  And  the  fateful  law  that  character 
tends  to  permanence  declares  once  again  that  those 
are  going  away  into  eternal  punishment,  but  these 
into  life  eternal. 

And  it  is  this  on  which  we  need  to  insist,  which 
you  and  I  must  remember.  Judgment  begins  here, 
goes  reaching  on,  travels  with  us,  abides  for  ever. 
It  is  true  of  life  here ;  it  lives  through  death ;  it  is 
true  of  this  same  life  continued  beyond  the  grave. 
Though  I  would  not  work  upon  your  fears  nor  win 
you  through  your  lowest  feelings,  yet  a  man  who 
loves  you  and  who  loves  truth  can  still,  with  deep 
and  solemn  earnestness,  urge  you  to  flee  from 
the  wrath  to  come.  Be  not  deceived.  Though  the 
brutal  hell  of  the  theologian  is  no  more,  and  the 
ghastly  horrors  of  an  Augustinian  slaughter- 
house are  remembered  only  with  a  sigh  of  thank- 
fulness for  escape  from  a  notion  which  dishonours 
God,  yet  He  is  not  mocked ;  whatsoever  a  man 
sows,  that  shall  he  also  reap.  And  now  is  the 
judgment  of  this  world! 

But  more ;  I  would  help  you  to  rob  death  of 
his  terrors.  Death  is  no  accident,  no  dislocation 
of  sovereign  purpose,  no  interruption  of  the 
eternal  order.  It  is  an  episode  of  universal  ex- 
perience, such  as  birth,  and,  like  birth,  the  en- 
trance into  another  sphere  of  activities,  but  with 
this  gain,  that  all  that  has  been  learnt  and  all  that 
has  been  won  which  is  worth  preserving  shall  live 
on    still,    with    enlarged    opportunities,    with   ex- 


114  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

panding  powers,  with  an  ever-Increasing  fulness 
of  that  Hfe  of  which  here  our  nerves  are  scant. 
When  men  speak  of  heaven  and  hell  they  too  often 
forget  that  these  are  states,  not  places,  which  be- 
gin now,  and  are  only  facts  of  the  future  because 
they  are  truths  of  the  present  time.  A  good  man 
carries  heaven  about  with  him.  The  strength  of 
brave  men  sustaining  him;  the  love  of  good 
women  that  ennobles  him ;  the  smiles  of  happy 
children,  God's  refuge  for  man's  weariness ;  the 
joy  of  work  well  done;  the  felt  presence  of  the 
Christ;  the  realised  ministry  of  the  Spirit;  the 
approval  of  the  living  God  completing  and  crown- 
ing his  strenuous  endeavour — these  constitute  a 
heaven  amid  the  gloom  and  shadow  of  the  present 
evil  age,  a  heaven  which  brightens  more  and  more 
unto  the  eternal  day  of  God. 


VII 
MARY   AT    THE    CROSS 


Stabat  Mater  dolorosa 
Juxta  crucem  lacrimosa, 

Dura  pendebat  Filius, 
Cujus  animam  gementem, 
Contristatam,  et  dolentem, 

Pertransivit  gladius. 

Eia!  Mater,  fons  amoris 
Me  sentire  vim  doloris 

Fac,  ut  tecum  lugeam: 
Fac,  ut  ardeat  cor  meum 
In  amando  Christum  Deum, 

Ut  sibi  complaceam. 

— Hymn  of  the  Flagellants. 


vn 

MARY   AT    THE    CROSS 

"  Now  there  stood  by  the  cross  of  Jesus  His  mother." 

— John  xix.  25. 

That  "the  quietude  of  grief  is  sacred,"  Dr. 
Martineau  once  said,  no  man  would  think  of 
trying  to  prove  to  another  any  more  than  he 
would  dream  of  attempting  to  demonstrate  that 
"  the  blush  of  morning  is  fair  or  the  heroism 
of  conscience  noble."  So  truly  do  we  all  feel 
the  sacredness  of  a  great  sorrow  that  when  we 
see  it  we  turn  our  eyes  away  in  native  delicacy 
of  soul.  We  cannot  separate  the  sorrows  of 
Mary,  the  Mother  of  Jesus,  as  she  stood  beside 
the  cross  to  see  her  Son  die,  from  the  sorrows  of 
mothers  and  of  motherhood  throughout  all  time. 
And  it  seems  to  us  that  there  is  danger  of  pro- 
faning a  holy  thing  when  we  permit  ourselves 
to  gaze,  even  through  blinding  tears,  upon  a 
mother's  bleeding  heart.  Love,  tender,  sympa- 
thetic, understanding,  love  which  shares  the 
sorrows  and  longs  to  heal,  love  alone  may  sanctify 
what  else  were  deep  irreverence.  And  if  this 
text  and  sermon  pierce,  in  some  tender  breast, 
the  wounds  which  in  this  world  will  never  heal 
and  which  open  at  a  touch,  try  to  believe,  dear, 

117 


118     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

suffering  soul,  that  it  is  good  for  us  at  times  to 
give  sorrow  words.  The  grief  that  does  not 
speak  whispers  the  o'erfraught  heart  and  bids  it 
break. 

For,  indeed,  there  is  a  sublimity  in  our  greatest 
griefs  which  uplifts  and  hallows  life.  And, 
good  Protestants  as  we  are,  we  need  not  hesitate 
to  admit  that  century  by  century  the  world's 
long  study  of  the  sorrows  of  the  Mother  of  Jesus 
has  been  charged  with  blessing  for  mankind. 
Women  have  been  sheltered  and  protected  and 
honoured  and  loved,  and  Woman  has  been 
enthroned ;  men  have  been  softened  and  chastened 
and  subdued  to  gentleness,  and  Man  has  been 
ennobled,  by  the  world's  worship  of  Mary.  Her 
real  womanhood  has  come  into  the  imagination 
of  the  poet  and  the  churl,  the  theologian  and  the 
village  child,  and  has  preserved  for  Christianity 
and  for  the  race  some  elements  without  which 
Christianity  would  be  a  cruel  and  a  hateful 
thing,  and  the  race  would  be  poor  indeed.  Per- 
haps, as  her  Son  hung  upon  the  cross  and  His 
life-blood  dripped  to  the  ground  before  the 
mother's  eyes,  if  some  strange  power  of  prescience 
had  enabled  her  to  rend  in  twain  the  veil  that 
hides  the  future  from  all  human  sight,  and  she  had 
seen  her  own  sorrows,  like  that  redeeming  blood, 
flowing  in  streams  of  mercy  over  half  a  world, 
while  yet  the  sword  pierced  her  own  heart,  also, 
her  lips  would  have  framed  again  the  words 
of  her  adorable  Magnificat,  "  My  soul  doth 
magnify  the  Lord."     And  such  a  thought  may 


MARY    AT    THE    CROSS  119 

enable  us  to  touch  with  reverent  hand  these  sacred 
griefs. 

It  is  terrible  for  a  mother  to  see  her  son  die. 
The  lot  is  common,  and  no  common  hand  can 
wipe  away  a  mother's  tears.  But  this  death 
united  in  itself  all  forms  of  known  atrocity.  It 
seems  as  though  death  by  crucifixion  had  been 
devised  and  adapted  to  inflict  the  maximum  of 
pain,  shame,  horror,  and  fear  which  human 
nature  can  endure.  Such  descriptions  as  I  have 
read  fill  my  soul  with  anguish,  and  I  will  not 
torture  you  with  their  recital.  But  this  frightful 
death  was  but  the  climax  of  a  long  series  of 
outrages,  from  the  sight  of  which  one  turns 
away  in  pain  unspeakable.  I  think  of  the  mock 
tribunals,  the  perjured  witnesses,  the  savage 
blow,  the  cruel  scourging,  the  crown  of  thorns; 
I  think  of  the  raging  hatred  that  burst  forth 
against  Him,  the  gentlest  and  most  lovable  that 
earth  has  seen — and  Mary  stood  beside  the 
cross ! 

What  an  end  to  all  the  mother's  dreams,  the 
mother's  joy  and  pride!  The  angel  that  whispers 
to  young  mothers  bright  hopes  for  their  first- 
born had  bidden  her  believe  that  her  Child 
should  be  great,  and  should  be  called  the  Son 
of  the  Highest.  For  Him  a  throne  was  waiting, 
the  throne  of  the  house  of  David.  But  His 
kingdom  should  be  like  no  other  that  mortal  eye 
had  seen — of  His  kingdom  there  should  be  no 
end.  In  lowliness  her  Child  was  born;  the 
manger  bare   received   Him.     But   still   sang   on 


120     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

the  angel's  song,  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,'* 
and  the  story  of  this  wondrous  birth  was  tidings 
of  great  joy.  Just  men  and  devout,  of  a  type 
that  every  formative  age  produces,  lonely 
watchers  for  the  morning  through  a  night  of  fear, 
waiting  for  the  consolation  of  Israel,  had  blessed 
her  for  the  blessing  that  she  bore.  And  one,  whose 
dying  eyes  read  clearest,  uttered  his  glad  thanks- 
giving, "  Lord,  now  lettest  Thou  Thy  servant 
depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  Thy 
salvation."  The  fulfilment  of  these  radiant 
dreams  was  slow  in  coming.  Yet  the  long  years 
are  short  when  a  mother  sees  her  boy  grow  in 
wisdom  and  in  stature,  and  in  favour  with  God 
and  men.  He  was  but  the  village  carpenter ; 
yet  there  was  childish  prattle  and  boyish  talk 
for  her  to  ponder  in  her  heart.  Then  came  the 
glorious  manhood  in  its  serenity,  its  matchless 
sweetness,  its  mighty  charm.  It  was  coming 
true  at  last,  the  angel's  whisper  in  her  girl- 
ish dreams,  the  song  that  broke  in  waves  of  glory 
from  the  star-lit  heavens,  the  prediction  of  the 
ancient  sage — kingdom,  throne,  and  Sonship  with 
the  Highest — it  was  coming  true,  it  was  all  coming 
true!  And  then  her  world  had  gone  out  after 
Him.  Galilee  and  all  the  south  down  to  its  ut- 
most edge  were  loud  in  talk  of  Him,  and  the  rapt 
Hosannas  of  the  crowd  proclaimed  the  coming 
of  the  King! 

And  there  He  hangs  upon  the  cross ! 

The    nails    have    pierced    His  hands    and    feet. 
The  crown  of  thorns  is  pressed  upon  His  sacred 


MARY    AT    THE    CROSS  121 

brow.  The  insults  of  men,  like  the  burning  hate 
of  devils,  have  lacerated  His  spirit  as  the  spiked 
and  twisted  leathern  thongs  His  flesh — and 
Mary  stood  to  see  Him  die!  Oh,  mighty 
power  of  a  mother's  heart,  that  breaks  and  yet 
endures ! 

This  is  the  deep  sorrow  of  mothers.  In  a 
world  where  thorns  lie  in  every  path,  is  there 
sorrow  like  unto  this?  Naturally,  the  eyes  of 
the  mother  have  turned  from  present  care  to 
future  pride.  When  the  boy  is  a  man,  what  a 
strong  arm  there  will  be  to  lean  upon !  When 
her  heart  and  flesh  fail  her,  how  his  strong  soul 
will  sustain  her!  When  her  eye  is  dim  with  age, 
with  what  pride  it  will  light  up  and  gleam  again 
as  she  sees  her  dear  one's  great  achievements ! 
What  interest  in  his  career:  what  joy  in  his 
successes :  what  glory  in  the  triumphs  he  must 
win !  And  then,  when  Death  dashes  all  these 
hopes  away — but,  no !  Only  a  mother  knows. 
And  only  God  can  comfort.  The  Lord  gave,  and 
the  Lord  hath  taken  away:  blessed  be  the  name 
of  the  Lord! 

Let  me  turn  to  a  consideration  that  is  bearable. 
This  tragedy  is  too  deep  for  words. 

These  thoughts  are  an  essential  and  integral 
part  of  our  Gospel  of  Liternational  Peace.  There  * 
are  few  of  us  so  callous  as  not  to  have  thought, 
in  the  sober  moments  that  the  beating  of  the 
war-drum  leaves  us,  of  the  anguish  with  which 
our  Imperialism  and  our  conquests  rend  the 
hearts    of    mothers.     One    of    the    outstanding 


122  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

phenomena  of  European  life  is  the  growth  of  the 
sentiment  of  Peace,  a  desire  for  Peace,  a  realisa- 
tion of  its  possibility,  and  a  willingness  to  seek 
the  path  that  leads  to  brotherhood.  Twelve  or 
thirteen  years  ago,  amongst  a  group  of  people  who 
knew  the  Continental  nations  better  than  I  did,  I 
heard  this  definitely  predicted.  And  one  who 
spoke,  the  best  informed  amongst  us,  answering 
the  question  of  a  lady  present  as  to  why  he  was 
so  much  more  hopeful  of  the  growth  of  the  Peace 
sentiment  there  than  here,  made  answer,  "  The 
women  there  know  what  war  is.  You  are  not 
afraid  that  if  our  country  was  at  war  to-day, 
to-morrow  your  boy  would  be  forced  against 
his  will  to  shoulder  his  rifle  and  go  to  the  front, 
and  that  the  next  you  heard  of  him  would  be  that 
a  bayonet  had  been  thrust  through  his  lungs  or  a 
gun-carriage  driven  across  his  head.  The  mothers 
of  those  countries  know  that  such  a  fate  is  hanging 
over  any  one  of  theirs.  The  women  know  what 
the  blood  tax  of  conscription  means."  That 
testimony  is  true.  The  prediction  has  been 
fulfilled.  And  one  element  in  the  development 
of  this  feeling  after  Peace  is  the  ever-intensify- 
ing realisation — self-realisation  and  realisation 
of  power — of  the  womanhood  of  the  nations. 
The  heaviest  burden  falls  on  the  tenderest 
hearts. 

Perhaps  the  sufferings  of  mothers  through  the 
wickedness  of  war,  like  the  suff^erings  of  the 
mother  of  our  Lord,  may  yet  make  for  the  re- 
demption  of   the  world.     An   English   statesman 


MARY    AT    THE    CROSS  123 

has  asked  us  to  cherish  the  dream  which  the 
poets  and  prophets  have  dreamed,  to  live  by  the 
light  of  the  vision  which  they  have  seen  from  afar, 
to  hold  to  the  hope  of  a  blissful  day  when  war 
shall  be  no  more.  Nothing,  he  bids  us  believe, 
will  In  the  long  run  prove  more  fruitful  of  the 
blessings  of  peace  than  our  determination  to 
believe  in  its  possible  attainment,  and  to  shape 
our  life  by  our  glowing  faith. 

Such  visions  are  of  morning, 

Theirs  is  no  vague  forewarning, 

The  dreams  which  nations  dream  come  true, 

And  shape  the  world  anew. 

And  when  these  dreams  are  no  longer  dreams, 
when  the  visions  are  glorious,  accomplished 
facts,  then  the  mothers  who  have  suffered  most 
may  yet  find  that  God  Himself  wipes  the  tears 
away,  as  the  thought  starts  unbidden  to  the 
heart  bereaved  but  comforted,  "  We  are  they  who 
pay  the  kings  their  cruel  price  for  peace." 

One  anguish  the  mother  of  our  text  was  spared. 
And  mothers  who  hear  me  have  suffered  with  a 
suffering  which  Mary  never  knew.  She  was 
spared  the  poisoned  sorrow  which  comes  from 
guilt.  Her  Son  was  numbered  with  the  trans- 
gressors, but  she  knew  Him  innocent.  Physical 
pain  Increased  to  torture,  blood  shed  In  rivers, 
and  emotional  anguish  such  as  Mary  felt  when  she 
stood  beside  the  cross,  are  less  in  degree  and  less 
bitter  in  kind  than  the  grief  which  has  torn 
some  mother's  heart  who  has  watched  the  soul 
of  her  dearest  rot  In  sin  and  perish  in  corruption. 


124     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

Oh,  but  we  lack  imagination !  If  we  could  but 
see  what  griefs  our  sins  accumulate  upon  the 
head  of  one  who  loves  us  well  and  would  die  for 
us,  we  should  pause  even  while  the  sin  was  hot 
upon  our  lips.  My  boy,  my  boy,  do  you  think 
what  your  vice,  your  defilement,  your  dishonesty, 
your  ruin,  your  disgrace,  will  mean  to  the  mother 
who  bore  you?  She  would  face  death  for  you 
a  thousand  times.  Will  you  not  he  a  man  for 
her? 

And  this  is  a  view  of  the  Atonement  which,  as 
we  repudiate  the  figments  and  fancies  which 
theologies  have  twined  round  it,  we  ought  not 
to  ignore.  That  was  Sin — that  which  had  ac- 
cumulated upon  Him,  the  gentle,  pure,  and  holy 
One,  the  anguish  and  the  hate — that  was  Sin ! 
And  as  I  feel  it,  I  understand  what  they  mean 
when  they  tell  me,  "  My  sins  nailed  Jesus  to  the 
cross."  I  feel  it  true.  God  be  merciful  to  me, 
a  sinner! 

But  let  us  return  to  the  stricken  mother  by  the 
cross.  It  is  not  surprising  that  her  sufferings 
should  have  appealed  to  the  sympathies  of  the 
world.  But  what  does  call  for  explanation  is  the 
fact  that  in  the  course  of  the  ages  she  has  been 
singled  out  for  divine  honours,  has  had  prayers 
offered  to  her — not  merely  offered  in  her  name, 
but  directly  to  her — has  received  a  worship  at 
times  more  loving  and  passionate  than  that  which 
has  been  paid  to  Christ,  and  in  the  art  of  the 
Middle  Ages  has  been  accorded  a  glory  above  that 
of  her  Son. 


MARY   AT    THE    CROSS  125 

As  early  as  the  day  of  Augustine,  the  theolo- 
gians were  busy  with  speculations  as  to  the 
sinlessness  of  Mary,  as  to  the  fact  of  it,  and  as 
to  the  method  by  which  it  was  accomplished. 
Soon  it  was  gravely  affirmed  that  she  had  come 
into  life  under  some  divine,  miraculous  plan, 
which  obliterated  from  her  nature  the  taint  of 
"Original  Sin."  Grave  "Fathers"  of  the 
Church  debated  this  weighty  matter,  though 
graciously  the  Church  permitted  some  doubt 
about  the  process,  until,  in  the  year  1854;,  Pope 
Pius  IX.  set  the  matter  at  rest  for  ever — for  all 
good  Catholics — by  a  Bull  which  declared  that  the 
notion  of  the  Immaculate  Conception  of  Mary 
was  a  truth  which  the  Church  was  bound  to  believe. 
On  my  study  wall  I  have  a  photograph,  bought 
in  a  Catholic  city,  of  the  scene  in  Heaven  when 
God  the  Father  and  God  the  Son,  with  Mary 
throned  between  them,  received  the  news  of  the 
Church's  rich  devotion.  Adam  and  Eve  have  come 
from  Hades  to  hear  the  joyful  tidings,  and  angels 
with  their  whips  of  many  cords  scourge  the  here- 
tics who  once  denied  it. 

The  process  of  the  worship  which  has  been 
offered  to  her  can  be  traced  with  surprising  ease 
in  Christian  art.  During  the  first  five  centuries 
Mary  takes  her  place  with  other  saints,  in  no  way 
raised  above  them.  As  late  as  the  close  of  the 
fifth  century  the  heads  of  Christ  and  the  angels 
have  the  nimbus,  but  not  that  of  Mary.  One 
hundred  years  later  our  Lord,  Mary,  and  the 
angels    have    the    nimbus,    while    the    apostles, 


126     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

amongst  whom  she  stands,  have  not.  In  the 
ninth  century  she  Is  enthroned  as  Queen  of 
Heaven.  In  the  twelfth  she  is  seated  with  Christ 
in  equal  honour.  In  pictures  of  terror,  with 
which  the  Dark  Ages  abounded,  she  is  frequently 
shown  winning  the  world  from  the  fierce  anger 
of  her  Son  by  the  appeal  she  makes  to  her 
maternity.  And  in  the  thought  of  many  genera- 
tions she  was  enshrined  as  the  ideal  of  tender 
love  and  goodness,  the  real  Saviour  of  mankind. 
Surely  there  is  some  explanation  of  all  this.'' 
The  world  was  familiar  with  female  deities. 
As  goddesses  and  as  brides  of  the  gods  mythology 
is  crowded  with  them.  Their  worship  has  not 
infrequently  been  corrupt  to  the  last  degree. 
The  religion  of  the  Hebrews  held  these  female 
cults  in  scorn.  The  God  of  the  Hebrews  is  a  God 
of  Power,  Justice,  Righteousness,  Law.  Gentler 
thoughts  came  to  some  of  the  prophets  and  poets 
of  the  Hebrew  race,  thoughts  that  at  times  leaped 
to  the  ascription  to  Jehovah  of  characteristics 
almost  fatherlike,  and  some,  even,  which  boldly 
claimed  for  him  the  tenderness  of  a  mother's 
heart.  But  these  great  thoughts  were  not  com- 
mon in  the  Jewish  faith.  Christ  came,  and  early 
in  the  history  of  His  Church  theology  magnified 
every  element  of  sternness,  pushed  back  and  out 
of  sight  His  great,  redeeming  love.  What,  at 
its  worst,  the  Hebrew  had  seen  in  God,  that,  ex- 
aggerated, intensified,  made  awful  and  wrathful 
and  bitter,  the  theologians  saw  in  Christ,  until  at 
last  the  world's  Redeemer  had  become  the  world's 


MARY    AT    THE    CROSS  127 

fierce  judge,  and  He  who  had  died  to  save  now 
lived  to  damn.  Yet  "  the  heart  has  its  reasons," 
says  Pascal;  and  the  heart,  thank  God,  has  its 
theologies !  And  Mariolatry  is  the  effort  of  man- 
kind, guided  by  a  sure  instinct  of  the  human 
heart,  to  bring  back  those  sweeter,  softer,  more 
lovely  and  more  loving  aspects  of  Deity  which 
Christ  revealed  in  His  own  Person,  which  the 
Church  so  soon  forgot,  has  been  so  slow  to  learn 
again.  Mariolatry  is  the  assertion  that  Power  is 
not  all ;  that  Pity  is  more.  That  Strength  is  not 
all;  that  Submission  may  be  greater.  That  Wis- 
dom, Force,  Energy  are  not  all  of  life;  that 
Meekness,  Obedience,  Gentleness  are  as  divine. 
Mariolatry  is,  in  a  word,  in  Christ's  own  words, 
the  assertion  that  the  poor  in  spirit  are  the  blessed 
ones,  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  theirs.  They 
that  mourn  are  blessed ;  God's  comfort  is  for  them. 
The  meek  are  blessed,  for  they  shall  inherit  the 
earth ;  the  merciful,  for  mercy  is  reserved  for 
them ;  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  see  God ;  and 
the  peacemakers,  yes,  the  peacemakers,  too,  for 
the  world  shall  yet  see  in  them  the  children  of 
God! 

This  is  Virgin-worship  at  its  best  and  highest. 
And  the  world  had  need  of  it. 

But  is  it  not  a  reflection  upon  Christianity  that 
such  an  idolatry  was  needed  to  reinforce  its  own 
essential  attributes  of  love  and  purity  and  gentle- 
ness.'' Do  we  not  derogate  from  the  true  greatness 
of  our  faith  when  we  admit  this.  Certainly,  this 
would  be  the  condemnation  of  Christianity — if  it 


128     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

was  Christianity  at  all!  But,  let  me  repeat,  it 
is  the  effort  of  the  human  heart  to  get  back  to 
that  which  was  deepest,  highest,  worthiest,  most 
essential  and  characteristic,  in  Christianity,  which 
theology  had  thrust  out  of  sight,  but  which  con- 
stituted the  true  glory  of  Christ.  We  need  no 
Virgin-worship.  Mariolatry  is  not  for  us.  We 
do  not  need  to  "  make  much  of  Mary."  All  that 
human  nature  has  yearned  for  and  thought  to 
find  in  her  is  truly  found,  found  in  its  fulness,  in 
Jesus  Christ.  He  is  Man  of  the  woman-heart,  as 
well  as  Man  of  the  virile  brain.  In  the  exquisite 
sensibility  of  His  soul,  the  clinging  to  human  com- 
panionship, the  worldless  craving  for  sympathy 
which  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  stretched  out 
hands  of  love  only  to  touch  the  hands  that  pulsed 
with  love  again,  in  the  considerateness  which  saw 
another's  thought,  and  read  the  wish,  and  smiled 
the  answer  to  the  unspoken  prayer,  in  the  over- 
flowing tenderness  which  won  from  the  unfriendly 
crowd  the  note  of  wonder,  "  Behold  how  He  loved," 
and  changed  the  apostle's  greeting,  "  The  grace  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  with  you  "  to  a  per- 
petual benediction — in  all  this  we  see  the  woman- 
nature  exalted  to  sublimity,  and  set  in  perfect 
poise  with  the  mighty  manhood  of  this  "  Strong 
Son  of  God,  immortal  love." 

Of  the  blessings  which  have  come  to  mankind 
from  the  recognition  in  Mary  of  these  most  Christ- 
like qualities  of  the  Christ,  I  have  not  time  to 
speak  at  any  length.  Let  me  quote  to  you  the 
brief  catalogue  of  gifts  and  graces  which  Lecky 


MARY    AT    THE    CROSS  129 

says  the  world  has  won  from  Virgin-worship — 
Lecky,  the  "  rationahst,"  not  by  any  means  a  man 
to  be  suspected  of  the  errors  of  Mariolatry : 

"  The  world  Is  governed  by  its  ideals,  and  sel- 
dom or  never  has  there  been  one  which  has  exer- 
cised a  more  profound  and,  on  the  whole,  a  more 
salutary  influence  than  the  mcdijeval  conception 
of  the  Virgin.  For  the  first  time  woman  was  ele- 
vated to  her  rightful  position,  and  the  sanctity  of 
weakness  was  recognised  as  well  as  the  sanctity 
of  sorrow.  No  longer  the  slave  or  toy  of  man,  no 
longer  associated  only  with  ideas  of  degradation 
and  sensuality,  woman  rose,  in  the  person  of  the 
Virgin  Mother,  into  a  new  sphere,  and  became  the 
object  of  a  reverential  homage  of  which  antiquity 
had  no  conception.  Love  was  idealised.  The 
moral  charm  and  beauty  of  female  excellence  were 
fully  felt.  A  new  type  of  character  was  called 
into  being;  a  new  kind  of  admiration  was  fostered. 
Into  a  harsh  and  ignorant  and  benighted  age  this 
ideal  type  infused  a  conception  of  gentleness  and 
purity  unknown  to  the  proudest  civilisations  of 
the  past.  In  the  pages  of  living  tenderness  which 
many  a  monkish  writer  has  left  in  honour  of  his 
celestial  patron,  in  the  millions  who,  in  many  lands 
and  in  many  ages,  have  sought  with  no  barren 
desire  to  mould  their  characters  into  her  image. 
.  in  the  new  sense  of  honour,  in  the  chival- 
rous respect,  in  the  softening  of  manners,  in  the 
refinement  of  tastes  displayed  in  all  the  walks  of 
society:  in  these  and  in  many  other  ways  we  de- 


130  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

tect  Its  influence.  All  that  was  best  in  Europe 
clustered  around  it,  and  it  is  the  origin  of  many 
of  the  purest  elements  of  our  civilisation." 

And  so,  as  we  turn  for  this  last  glimpse  to 
Mary,  weeping  by  the  cross,  I  suggest  to  you 
again  that  if  she  had  read  her  future  story,  seen 
the  blessings  which  her  name  and  the  love  of  her 
would  fling  broadcast  over  a  troubled  world,  she 
might  have  counted  the  hour  of  mortal  anguish 
not  too  dreadful  to  be  borne.  And  I  ask  you  to 
believe  that  something  of  all  this  is  true  and  must 
be  true  of  the  sorrows  of  your  life.  We  cannot 
philosophise  about  it.  We  cannot  reduce  it  to 
a  system.  We  cannot  give  a  theory,  line  upon 
line,  and  precept  upon  precept,  a  theory  of  human 
suffering  and  human  redemption  which  will  satisfy 
the  demands  of  an  inexorable  logic.  But  dimly 
we  see  it.  Distantly  we  feel  after  it.  And  in  de- 
fault of  any  better  reading  of  life's  mysteries,  it 
will  be  good  for  you  to  hold  to  this.  In  some 
way,  the  suffering,  the  tragedy,  the  pain,  the  loss, 
the  wreck  of  life,  the  blight  of  hope,  all  are  work- 
ing out  the  highest,  holiest  good.  In  a  deeper, 
truer  way  than  we  can  understand,  no  sparrow 
falls  unheeded  of  the  love  of  God.  He  hears  our 
sighs.  He  counts  our  tears.  His  hand  is  on  the 
breaking  heart.  Love  made  the  world.  Love 
guides  it  still.  Love  will  triumph  in  the  end. 
Your  afflictions,  crushing,  overwhelming  as  they 
are,  in  the  balances  of  eternity  are  light,  and  for 
a  moment.    For  yourself  and  for  your  dear  ones 


MARY    AT    THE    CROSS  131 

and  for  the  race  they  work  out  a  far  more  exceed- 
ing weight  of  glory.  And  this  shall  be  your  com- 
fort as  you  stand,  each  one  of  you,  beside  the 
cross  of  Christ,  as,  in  denial  of  yourself  and 
service  of  your  fellows,  you  share  the  redeeming 
love  of  Christ. 

Foes  were  wrought  to  cruel  madness; 
Friends  had  fled  in  fear  and  sadness; 
Mary  stood  the  cross  beside. 

At  its  foot  her  foot  she  planted, 
By  the  dreadful  scene  undaunted. 
Till  the  gentle   Sufferer   died. 

Poets  oft  have  sung  her  story, 
Painters  decked  her  brow  with  glory. 
Priests  her  name  have  deified. 

But  no  worship,  song,  or  glory. 

Touches  like  that  simple  story — 

Mary  stood  the  cross  beside. 

And  when,  under  fierce  oppression. 
Goodness  suffers  like  transgression, 
Christ  again  is  crucified; 

But  if  love  be  there,  true-hearted. 
By  no  grief  or  terror  parted, 
Mary  stands  the  cross  beside. 


vin 

THE    SURVIVAL   OF   THE   UNFITTEST 


Don't  compete — competition  is  always  injurious  to  the 
species,  and  you  have  plenty  of  resources  to  avoid  it! 
That  is  the  tendency  of  Nature,  not  always  realised  in  full, 
but  always  present.  That  is  the  watchword  which  comes 
to  us  from  the  bush,  the  forest,  the  river,  the  ocean.  There- 
fore combine — practise  mutual  aid.  That  is  the  surest 
means  for  giving  to  each  and  aU  the  greatest  safety,  the 
best  guarantee  of  existence  and  progress,  bodily,  intellectual 
and  moral.  That  is  what  Nature  teaches  us;  and  that  is 
what  all  those  animals  which  have  attained  the  highest 
position  in  their  respective  classes  have  done.  That  is 
also  what  man — the  most  primitive  man — has  been  doing; 
and  that  is  why  man  has  reached  the  position  upon  which 
we  stand  now.  — Keopotkin. 


VIII 
THE    SURVIVAL  OF   THE   UNFITTEST 

"  Now  there  is  in  Jerusalem  by  the  sheep  gate  a  pool, 
which  is  called  in  Hebrew,  Bethesda,  having  five  porches. 
In  these  lay  a  multitude  of  them  that  were  sick,  blind, 
halt,  withered.  And  a  certain  man  was  there,  who  had  been 
thirty  and  eight  years  in  his  infirmity.  When  Jesus  saw 
him  lying,  and  knew  that  he  had  been  now  a  long  time  in 
that  case.  He  saith  unto  him,  Wouldest  thou  be  made  whole? 
The  sick  man  answered  Him,  Sir,  I  have  no  man,  when  the 
water  is  troubled,  to  put  me  into  the  pool;  but  while  I  am 
coming,  another  steppeth  down  before  me.  Jesus  saith 
unto  him.  Arise,  take  up  thy  bed,  and  walk.  And  straight- 
way the  man  was  made  whole,  and  took  up  his  bed  and 
walked." — John  v.  2-9. 

The  Revised  Version  has  dismissed  from  the 
narrative  the  Angel  who  troubled  the  waters, 
and  who  troubled,  it  may  be  added,  many  in- 
quiring minds.  There  is  nothing  in  the  story 
now  to  suggest  that  the  famous  Pool  of  Bethesda 
was  other  than  a  natural  place  of  healing,  waters 
possessed  of  those  curative  properties  for  the 
sake  of  which  tens  of  thousands  of  people  every 
year  visit  well-known  places  in  our  own  country 
and  in  Europe.  The  "  moving  of  the  water  "  re- 
ferred to  by  the  sick  man  does  not  necessarily 
point  to  anything  but  a  very  ordinary  phenome- 
non. The  spring,  from  which  the  waters  of  this 
pool  were  collected,  appears  not  to  have  been  con- 
tinuous, but  one  which  gushed  forth  at   certain 

135 


136  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

seasons.  Then  the  water  flowed  into  the  natural 
or  artificial  basin,  and  the  older  legend  said  that 
an  *'  Angel  "  had  "  troubled  the  water." 

The  story  has  for  us  interest  in  this,  that  it 
affords  in  a  striking  incident  a  crucial  illustra- 
tion of  Christ's  ministry  to  the  infirm,  of  His 
deliberate  and  determined  effort  to  assure  the 
survival  of  the  unfittest. 

The  healing  ministry  of  Jesus  Christ  has  en- 
deared Him  to  human  hearts.  Our  hymns,  our 
prayers,  the  recollections  of  our  childhood,  the 
adoration  of  our  manhood,  the  history  of  civilisa- 
tion, all  unite  to  swell  the  chorus  of  love  and 
praise  unto  Him  whom  we  delight  to  call  "  The 
Good  Physician,"  and  of  whom  we  say  with  high- 
est worship  in  simplest  words,  "  He  went  about 
doing  good."  The  most  critical  mind  amongst  us, 
finding  insuperable  difficulties  in  many  of  the 
"  miracle  "  stories,  yet  gains  ground  of  reasonable 
faith  in  the  "  miracles  of  healing."  The  coldest 
heart  warms  and  thrills  at  the  reading  of  that 
simple  phrase,  "  He  had  compassion  upon  them." 

"  A  crucial  illustration,"  I  have  called  this 
incident  of  the  healing  of  the  impotent  man  at 
the  Pool  of  Bethesda;  and  you  will  probably 
agree  with  me.  The  man  was  infirm  amongst 
the  infirm.  He  was  incapable  amongst  the  in- 
capable. He  was  far  more  helpless  and  hopeless 
than  the  most  helpless  and  hopeless  there.  Thirty- 
eight  years  had  he  lain  there,  waiting  for  his 
chance.  Yet  when  his  chance  came,  others  of  the 
sick,  less  helpless  than  he,  pushed  before  him  in 


SURVIVAL    OF    THE    UNFITTEST     137 

the  wretched  race  of  the  cripples  for  life  and 
health.  He  had  no  friends  to  help  him,  had 
neither  hands  of  his  own  to  use  nor  hands  of  his 
neighbour  to  borrow.  He  was  the  very  worst 
specimen  that  could  be  found  of  a  man  unfit  to 
carry  on  the  feeblest  form  of  the  struggle  for 
existence.  Even  amongst  that  crowd  of  the  para- 
lysed and  the  miserable  he  was  the  unfittest  to 
survive. 

And  Christ  healed  him.  He  sent  him  on  his 
way  rejoicing. 

Christianity,  the  religion  of  Christ  the  Healer, 
has  set  itself,  as  its  Master  did,  to  heal  the  sick, 
to  cleanse  the  leper,  to  cast  out  devils,  to  take 
the  deformed  and  straighten  their  withered  limbs, 
the  blind  and  give  them  sight,  the  worn-out,  ex- 
hausted, and  degenerate  amongst  earth's  children 
and  give  them  fresh  lease  of  life.  Through  all 
its  generations  Christianity  has  been  doing  this. 
Such  work  is  the  high  distinction  of  its  greatest 
days.  It  is  the  crowning  glory  of  the  age  we 
live  in.  And  when  a  sceptic  of  our  own  times 
searches  continents  from  sea  to  sea  and  history 
from  century  to  century  for  proof  of  some  healing 
ministry  before  the  time  of  Christ  and  independent 
of  His  reign,  and  finds  one,  just  one,  example,  to 
set  against  the  long  and  splendid  line  of  minister- 
ing spirits  who  have  named  the  name  of  Jesus, 
he  calls  all  the  world  to  witness  his  wonderful 
discovery ! 

But  now:  When  Christ  in  this  way  sets  Him- 
self to  keep  alive  the  weakest  and  physically  the 


138     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

worst,  the  most  worthless  specimens  of  humanity, 
has  He  not  set  up  a  process  for  the  deterioration 
of  the  Race? 

When  we  build  and  maintain  hospitals,  sana- 
toria, almshouses,  asylums  for  the  imbecile  and 
insane,  when  we  apply  ourselves  to  keep  alive 
the  consumptive,  the  anaemic,  the  weak-minded, 
the  dwarfed  and  deformed,  are  we  not  "  going 
dead  against  Evolution " — I  think  that  is  the 
phrase — and  putting  back  the  hope  of  a  time 
when  we  shall  see  a  race  of  clean-bodied,  strong- 
limbed  giants  and  giantesses,  multiplying  after 
their  kind  and  replenishing  the  earth? 

Certainly  it  would  seem  that  the  answer  ought 
to  be  "  Yes "  to  such  a  question  as  this.  It 
Bounds  savage,  but  are  we  not  opposing  our- 
selves to  Nature's  plan?  Nature  kills  off  the 
weak;  lets  the  strong  survive.  The  lopping  off 
of  the  weak  strengthens  the  stock,  for  only  the 
strong  go  on  to  increase  and  multiply.  And  so 
tuberculosis  and  typhoid,  starvation  and  plague, 
are  Mother  Nature's  most  beneficent  instruments 
for  preserving  and  strengthening  and  blessing 
the  human  race!  Our  Christian  civilisation,  in 
so  far  as  it  is  Christian,  is  a  repudiation  of 
Nature's  own  designs,  and  a  weak  attempt  to 
turn  her  from  her  course.  As  such,  it  is  foolish, 
and  futile,  and  doomed  to  failure.  Yes ;  and  our 
philanthropy  is  immoral,  too;  for  we  not  only 
arrange  for  the  survival  of  the  unfit,  but  we 
allow  them  to  continue  the  stock,  preserving  in 
the  body   of    the   community   these    elements   of 


SURVIVAL    OF    THE    UNFITTEST     139 

weakness,  disease,  and  death.  If  we  are  too 
superficially  humane  to  take  the  old  folks  out  and 
shoot  them — if  we  hesitate  to  shoot — if  we  have 
some  squeamish  objection  to  take  the  rickety 
and  scrofulous  and  ill-formed  babies  and  throw 
them  into  the  sea,  at  least  we  might  cease  from 
our  efforts  to  keep  them  alive,  and  leave  these 
benign  operations  of  Nature  to  do  their  worst 
and  their  best! 

Well,  let  man  think  so,  and  act  upon  his  re- 
morseless logic,  and  then — 

Dragons  of  the  prime. 
That  tare  each  other  in  their  slime, 
Were  mellow  music  matched  with  him! 

Yet,  where  is  the  fallacy?  For  it  is  not 
pleasant  for  us  to  believe  that  the  revelation 
which  God  gives  of  Himself  in  what  we  call 
"  Nature,"  and  the  revelation  which  He  gives 
of  Himself  in  His  Son,  contradict  each  other  so 
flatly.  Where  is  the  fallacy?  Wisdom  is  always 
justified  of  her  children.  Christ  is  her  first-born 
and  her  noblest.  And  in  His  care  for  the  unfit 
He  is  even  now  seen  to  be  justified  by  the  re- 
searches of  the  naturalist  and  the  conclusions  of 
the  philosopher.  His  compassion,  going  "  dead 
against  Evolution,"  is  justified  b"  the  exDonents 
of  Evolutionary  Science. 

For  we  are  now  told  that  there  has  been  in 
Evolution  a  factor  as  important  as  that  of  the 
struggle  for  existence,  perhaps  even  more  im- 
portant.    The  nature  of  the  struggle,  we  are  as- 


140  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

sured,  has  been  misconceived;  the  extent  of  it  has 
been  grossly  exaggerated ;  and  this  other  factor 
has  been  ignored.  Yet  this  other  law  of  being 
has  done  as  much  for  the  preservation  and  de- 
velopment and  improvement  of  life  upon  our 
planet  as  the  one  which  we  have  come  to  regard 
as  supreme,  the  law  of  the  struggle  for  existence. 

Nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  a  Russian 
naturalist  christened  this  other  factor,  "  The  Law 
of  Mutual  Aid."  *  As  a  zoologist.  Professor 
Kessler  protested  against  the  abuse  of  the  term 
"  the  struggle  for  existence,"  which  was  borrowed 
from  zoology.  He  said  that  zoology  and  those 
sciences  which  deal  with  man  were  continually 
insisting  upon  what  they  call  the  "  pitiless  "  law 
of  the  struggle  for  existence.  But  they  forget 
the  working  of  another  law,  which  may  be  de- 
scribed as  the  law  of  mutual  aid,  which  law,  at 
least  for  animals,  is  far  more  essential  than  that 
of  the  struggle  for  existence.  All  classes  of  ani- 
mals, he  said,  and  especially  the  higher  ones, 
practise  mutual  aid.  And  he  went  on :  "^  I  do 
not  deny  the  struggle  for  existence;  but  I  main- 
tain that  the  progressive  development  of  the  ani- 
mal kingdom  is  favoured  much  more  by  mutual 
support  than  by  mutual  struggle." 

Neither  this  law  of  mutual  aid  nor  the  im- 
portance   of   it    escaped   the   notice    of    Darwin. 

*  Memoirs  of  the  St.  Petersburg  Society  of  Naturalists, 
Vol.  XI.,  1880,  quoted  by  P.  Kropotkin,  "Mutual  Aid," 
Chapter  I.,  from  whom  this  and  the  two  following  quota- 
tions are  taken.  For  Darwin  reference  see  the  same  chap- 
ter in  Kropotkin,  and  for  the  Goethe  story  the  Introduction. 


SURVIVAL    OF    THE    UNFITTEST      141 

At  the  beginning  of  his  work  he  took  care  to  ask 
that  the  term  "  struggle  for  life "  should  be 
understood  in  a  very  large  sense  which  would 
include  dependence  of  one  being  upon  another.  In 
the  "  Descent  of  Man  "  are  some  pages  written  to 
illustrate  this  proper  wide  sense  in  which  Darwin 
wished  the  phrase  to  be  taken.  He  pointed  out 
how,  in  numberless  animal  societies,  the  struggle 
between  separate  individuals  for  the  means  of 
existence  disappears ;  how  struggle  is  replaced 
by  co-operation,  and  how  the  substitution  results 
in  the  development  of  intellectual  and  moral 
faculties  which  secure  to  the  species  the  best  con- 
ditions for  survival.  Holding  to  the  idea  of  the 
"  survival  of  the  fittest,"  Darwin  showed  that  in 
those  cases  the  "  fittest "  were  not  the  strongest 
nor  the  cunningest,  but  those  who  had  learned  to 
combine  so  as  to  mutually  support  each  other, 
strong  and  weak  together,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
community.  And  he  added  these  striking  words: 
"  Those  communities  which  included  the  greatest 
number  of  the  most  sympathetic  members  would 
■flourish  best  and  rear  the  greatest  number  of 
offspring."  * 

An  earlier  observer  than  Darwin  had  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  truth,  and  had  brought  a  poet's 
rich  imagination  to  bear  upon  the  facts.  When 
Eckermann  once  told  Goethe  that  two  little  wren 
fledglings,  which  had  run  away  from  him,  were 
found  by  him  next  day  in  the  nest  of  robin-red- 
breasts, who  fed  the  little  ones  together  with  their 
own  youngsters,  Goethe  grew  quite  excited  about 
*  "  Descent  of  Man,"  2nd  edition,  p.  163. 


142  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

it.  He  said,  "  If  it  be  true  that  this  feeding  of  a 
stranger  goes  through  all  Nature  as  something 
having  the  character  of  a  general  law,  then  many 
an  enigma  will  be  solved."  He  returned  to  the 
matter  on  the  next  day,  and  earnestly  entreated 
Eckermann,  who  was  a  zoologist,  to  make  a  special 
study  of  the  subject,  saying  that  he  would  come 
to   "  quite  invaluable  treasuries   of  results." 

With  the  best  will  in  the  world,  some  of  us 
were  never  able  to  join  unreservedly  in  the 
praises  which  greeted  the  appearance  of  Henry 
Drummond's  "  Ascent  of  Man  "  ten  years  ago.  It 
is  a  charming  book,  crowded  with  beautiful  illus- 
trations, written  with  incomparable  skill,  every 
page  delightful  reading,  and  supremely  useful  as 
a  demonstration  of  the  fact  that  one  of  the  most 
spiritual  of  the  followers  of  Jesus  in  our  genera- 
tion could  hold  and  teach  the  fullest  doctrines  of 
Evolution.  But  the  argument  seemed  to  be  vitiated 
at  the  very  outset  by  the  form  into  which  it  was 
arbitrarily  forced;  and  the  contention  that  pity, 
sacrifice,  and  love  were  an  evolution  of  a  certain 
instinct,  functional  in  protoplasm,  only  weakened 
the  force  of  Drummond's  plea  for  the  "  struggle 
for  the  life  of  others."  Yet  we  felt  that  he  had 
more  than  established  his  case  for  the  part  played 
in  Evolution  in  its  later  stages  by  what  he  called 
"  Otherism,"  the  struggle  for  the  life  of  others, 
however  badly  his  argument  had  started.  And 
we  saw  that  he  had  done  the  Church  a  great 
service  in  popularising  a  view  which  Herbert 
Spencer,  in  his   own  way,  had  developed  before 


SURVIVAL    OF    THE    UNFITTEST     143 

him.  And  now  a  worker  on  similar  yet  different 
lines,  approaching  the  subject  from  a  very  dif- 
ferent point  of  view  and  with  different  motives, 
Kropotkin,  has  given  us  in  his  volume,  "  Mutual 
Aid,"  a  calmer,  less  exaggerated,  and  more  satis- 
fying account  of  this  second  factor  in  evolution. 
It  is  from  his  pages  that  I  have  taken  the  refer- 
ences to  Darwin  and  the  quotation  from  Goethe. 
And  you  would  be  delighted  and  upHfted  if,  under 
Kropotkin's  guidance,  you  were  to  trace  the  work- 
ings of  this  great  law  of  mutual  help  through 
birds  and  beasts,  through  savagery  and  barbar- 
ism, in  the  mediaeval  city  and  in  the  modern  State. 
But  without  attempting  anything  of  that  am- 
bitious character  in  the  course  of  a  single  sermon, 
and  without  following  our  author  at  all  closely, 
let  me  remind  you  of  those  beautiful  everyday 
facts  which  never  pass  from  the  observation 
of  any  one  of  you.  I  refer  to  the  help  which  the 
poor  give  to  the  poor.  If  you  think  about  this, 
if  you  let  your  imagination  play  about  the  facts 
which  you  yourselves  know  to  be  facts,  this 
is  really  one  of  the  outstanding  phenomena  of 
human  life.  The  poor  could  not  live  if  it  were  not 
for  the  poor!  From  the  coming  into  the  world 
of  the  child  for  whose  coming  no  preparation 
has  been  made,  to  the  last  offices  of  pity  for  the 
dying  and  the  dead,  this  law  of  mutual  help- 
fulness operates  like  gravitation!  Consider  the 
good-natured,  easy-going  carelessness  of  added 
burdens  with  which  a  poor  family  will  take 
another  mouth  to  feed,  another  body  to  clothe. 


144.  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

another  life  to  care  for,  when  death  has  left  a 
neighbouring  home  desolate.  I  doubt  whether  the 
beneficence,  the  charity,  the  kindness  of  the  rich, 
can  compare  with  this.  It  is  not  wonderful  that 
Samuel  Plimsoll,  who  went  to  live  amongst  the 
poor,  said  that  his  feelings  were  transformed  as 
he  came  to  know  the  people  better ;  he  went  with 
kindly  feelings ;  he  came  away  with  hearty  respect 
and  admiration.  In  quantity,  this  fact  is  colossal. 
To-day,  there  will  be  a  million  acts  of  unnoticed 
kindness  done  in  our  land.  Newspapers  exist  to 
tell  us  the  unusual,  not  the  usual.  And  so,  al- 
though a  million  deeds  of  pity  will  to-day  adorn 
and  consecrate  the  relations  of  the  poor  with  the 
poor,  no  newspaper  to-morrow  will  print  a  line 
about  it.  But  if  in  some  gin-soaked  slum  Bill 
Sykes  should  beat  Nancy  so  that  she  dies,  every 
newspaper  to-morrow  will  tell  the  story.  I  re- 
peat that  in  point  of  quantity  this  fact  of  mutual 
aid  is  a  fact  quite  colossal.  In  quality  it  is 
divine. 

It  might  be  well  to  go  on  to  show  how  the 
preservation  and  development  of  these  elements 
of  pity  have  strengthened,  not  weakened,  the 
Race.  But  I  put  it  in  the  form  of  a  question 
only:  What  sort  of  a  race  would  have  been  de- 
veloped without  this  "  struggle  for  the  life  of 
others  "?  Consider  the  race  of  brawny,  burly, 
brutal  giants  that  we  might  have  had !  Would 
the  healthier,  stronger  bodies — supposing  we  had 
been  able  to  secure  them — have  been  worth 
having,  among  such  soulless  ruffians  as  this  de- 


SURVIVAL    OF    THE    UNFITTEST     145 

nial  of  love  supposes?  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
what  has  been  lost  by  the  preservation  of  the 
physically  weak  has  been  more  than  a  thousand 
times  made  up  by  the  conservation  of  these 
purifying  instincts  of  compassion.  In  Darwin's 
phrase  again,  "  those  communities  which  have 
the  greatest  nurabeT  of  the  most  sympathetic 
members,  flourish  best  " ;  and  in  more  memorable 
words,  "  whoso  loseth  his  life  " — individual,  com- 
munity, or  race — "  shall  save  it  unto  life  eternal." 
And  so  through  the  whole  world  of  living  things, 
in  all  creation,  as  far  as  we  know  it,  from  Goethe's 
benevolent  robins  to  the  poor  in  our  city  slums, 
from  Kessler's  "law  of  mutual  aid"  to  Drum- 
mond's  "  struggle  for  the  life  of  others  " ;  from 
the  weasel,  in  a  story  told  by  J.  C.  Wood,  which 
came  back  to  pick  up  and  carry  away  an  injured 
mate,  to  the  latest  medical  missionary  who  has 
died  of  malarial  fever  in  the  swamps  of  Africa, 
life  has  spread  and  branched  from  more  to  more, 
and  reached  to  higher  levels,  by  reason  of  Nature's 
determination,  not  merely  to  secure  the  survival 
of  the  fit,  but  even  the  survival  of  the  unfittest. 

There  are  some  observations  which  naturally 
occur  to  one,  as  he  sees  in  these  conclusions 
of  the  biologist  fresh  reason  to  justify  the  ways 
of  God  to  man. 

One  is  that  the  terrible  notion  of  the  absolutely 
pitiless  struggle  which  is  for  ever  raging  amongst 
all  living  things,  must  be  greatly  modified  if  it 
is  not  abandoned.  It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say 
that  the  thought  of  this  immeasurable  pain  in 


146  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

the  animal  world  has  been  to  many  sensitive  souls 
a  nightmare.  We  have  accepted  all  the  state- 
ments about  Nature's  ruthless  methods,  and  have 
repeated  Tennyson's  phrase: 

Nature,  red  in  tooth  and  claw,  with  ravine. 

Alfred  Russell  Wallace,  in  his  "  Darwinism,"  * 
declared  that  such  a  notion  was  entirely  un- 
founded. He  said  that  the  "  torments  "  and 
*'  miseries  "  of  animals  have  little  real  existence ; 
that  the  popular  idea  is  the  very  reverse  of  the 
truth ;  and  that  the  struggle  for  life  really  brings 
about  the  maximum  of  life  and  the  enjoyment  of 
life  with  the  minimum  of  suffering  and  pain.  And 
now  these  other  reflections  bring  us  within  sight 
of  another  world — a  world  of  co-operation,  of 
solidarity,  of  sympathy,  of  mutual  help  in  the 
lower  orders  of  life — an  animal  world  on  which 
its  Maker  can  look,  of  which  He  can  say  that  it 
is  '*  good." 

And  In  these  conclusions,  too,  we  find  that 
which  may  justify  the  programme  of  Christianity. 
We  are  told  every  day  that  conflict  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  the  very  existence  of  the  individual 
and  of  the  race.  Man  Is  born  for  conflict.  He 
grows  by  it.  He  cannot  live  without  It.  Con- 
flict with  our  Mother  Nature  herself.  In  which 
she  loves  to  be  worsted,  and  herself  In  gladness 
crowns  the  victor;  conflict  with  the  stormy  seas, 
the  inhospitable  earth,  the  air,  and  the  powers  of 
the  air;  conflict  which  ennobles  the  individual. 
*  "  Darwinism,"  pp.  37-40. 


SURVIVAL    OF    THE    UNFITTEST     147' 

and  glorifies  the  race — Yes !  But  conflict  between 
man  and  man,  the  prize  to  the  strong  arm, 
cunning  brain,  and  reckless  heart — No!  In  the 
name  of  Reason,  not  less  than  Love,  a  thousand 
times.  No !  Co-operate !  Combine !  Unite !  That 
is  the  word  of  Nature  to  us.  Come  together. 
Work  together.  Live  together.  It  is  not  good 
for  man  to  live  alone. 

And  this  is  true  for  nations — do  not  doubt  it. 
"  But  man  is  a  fighting  animal,"  we  are  told ; 
"  and  nothing  is  more  foolish  than  to  suppose 
that  there  can  come  a  time  when  the  nations 
will  make  war  no  more."  We  are  gravely 
assured  that  the  first  act  of  a  human  being  upon 
his  entrance  into  this  world  Is  to  double  his  fist. 
Those  of  us  who  have  never  been  threatened  by 
the  awful  menace  of  a  baby,  do  not  know  whether 
the  "  fact  "  is  fact  or  fancy.  But  we  understand 
the  argument  so  gravely  deduced,  that  from 
baby's  dimpled,  doubled  fingers  to  the  "  mailed 
fist "  of  Imperial  bullies,  every  hand  must  be 
uplifted  against  every  hand,  as  It  was  in  the 
beginning.  Is  now,  and  ever  shall  be,  while  the 
ages  sink  In  blood !  But  War  is  no  necessity  of 
hfe.  Conflict  between  man  and  man  is  not 
Nature's  last  word  to  us.  Nay,  but  it  is  Nature 
herself  who  takes  up  the  AngeVs  song  of  Peace  on 
Earth  amongst  men  of  good  xvill. 

In  the  long  run,  then,  how  Wisdom  is  justified  of 
her  children !  How  right  Christ  Is,  however  we 
doubt  Him,  when  we  take  time  enough  to  find 
the  answer  to  the  puzzling  contradiction  between 


148  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

what  we  have  taken  to  be  the  facts  of  life  and  His 
great  words !  You  can  do  no  better  than  read 
the  facts  of  hfe  through  His  eyes.  If  you  are 
strong  enough,  sit  at  His  feet  and  learn  of  Him. 
If  you  are  not,  kneel  before  Him  and  accept  His 
word.     Your  wisdom  is  there. 

And  one  thing  we  can  learn  from  Him,  we 
must  learn — His  gentle  pity  of  the  helpless  and 
the  weak.  What  tender  thoughts  come  to  us 
when  we  sing: 

When  the  Lord  of  Love  was  here 
Happj  hearts  to  Him  were  dear. 
Though  His  own  was  sad 
Worn  and  lonely  for  our  sake, 
Yet  He  turned  aside  to  make 
All  the  weary  glad. 

What  tender  thoughts  come  to  us  as  we  stand 
with  Him  by  Bethesda's  pool  and  look  upon  the 
crowd  of  the  afflicted!  How  did  He  feel  when 
the  wretched  man  told  his  wretched  story  .^ 
When  He  heard  that  as  often  as  the  divine  hope 
dawned  upon  him,  the  stronger  pushed  him  by 
and  thrust  him  down  and  rushed  on  to  the  prize? 
So  must  we  feel,  so  we  do  feel,  when  we  look 
upon  a  perverted  and  depraved  competition  in 
the  presence  of  mankind's  great  throbbing  need. 
"  Each  man  for  himself  and  the  devil  take  the 
hindmost,"  is  the  world's  base  cry.  By  the 
splendour  of  God,  we  will  change  all  that !  Each 
man  for  his  brother,  and  Christ  for  us  all! 


IX 

THE  MOST  POPULAR  SIN  IN 
THE  WORLD 


Indifferent  people  can  only  wound  you  in  heterogeneous 
parts,  maim  you  in  your  arm  or  leg,  but  the  friend  can 
make  no  pass  but  at  the  heart  itself. — Steele. 


IX 

THE    MOST    POPULAR    SIN    IN 
THE    WORLD 

"But  where  are  the  nine?" — Luke  xvii.  17. 

Ten  were  healed.  Nine  went  on  their  way,  with 
never  a  word  of  thankfulness.  One  returned, 
to  kneel  at  the  feet  of  his  benefactor,  and  give 
thanks  to  Him  and  to  God.  And  he  was  a 
foreigner !  One  decent  man  out  of  ten.  Where 
were  the  nine? 

There  are  times  when  one  is  tempted  to  say 
that  this  is  about  the  usual  proportion.  The 
Psalmist  said  in  his  haste  that  all  men  were  liars. 
Carlyle  said  at  his  leisure  that  the  population  of 
England  was  so  many  millions,  mostly  fools. 
When  the  nation  rallied  to  make  David  king,  and 
the  hosts  were  numbered,  there  gathered  340,000 
men  of  brawn  and  muscle,  and  200  with  brains. 
It  was  not  so  bad,  as  things  go.  The  rats  desert 
a  sinking  ship — because  they  are  rats.  When  the 
Greek  found  a  serpent's  egg,  and  in  his  own 
bosom  nursed  it  till  the  young  one  was  "  hatched," 
the  first  thing  the  young  serpent  did  was  to  sting 
him,  because  it  was  its  nature  to !  Our  popular 
proverb  tells  us  that  if  we  lend  to  a  friend  we  shall 
lose    him,  following    worldly-wise    old    Polonius, 

151 


152  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

"  Loan  oft  loseth  both  itself  and  friend."  Our 
popular  superstition  says  that  if  you  save  a 
man's  life  he  will  live  to  do  you  an  injury.  When 
our  Lord  was  betrayed,  His  nearest  and  dearest 
forsook  Him  and  fled. 

Certainly,  Ingratitude  seems  to  be  the  most 
popular  sin  in  the  world.  Perhaps,  because  it 
is  so  easy.  Usually,  it  only  consists  in  doing 
nothing.  Anybody  can  accomplish  so  much.  A 
child  can  let  the  fire  go  out.  But  the  offence 
of  doing  nothing  is  one  of  the  deadliest  of  the 
seven  deadly  sins.  It  is  one  of  the  worst  crimes 
in  the  big  black  catalogue  of  wrong-doing. 
And  the  sin  of  Ingratitude  is  the  broad  highway 
to  envy,  hatred,  malice,  and  all  uncharitableness, 
to  the  cowardly  denials  of  Peter  and  the  bloody 
treachery  of  Judas. 

One  came  back  to  own  his  gladness  and 
thanksgiving.     Where  were  the  nine.'* 

Shall  we  agree  that  ninety  per  cent,  of  the 
human  race  is  ingrate,  ninety  per  cent,  careless 
of  the  ordinary  courtesies  and  decencies  of  life, 
ninety  per  cent,  callously  indifferent  to  the  pain 
which  their  ingratitude  inflicts  upon  the  tender 
hearts  of  those  who  have  loved  and  served  them? 

We  must  avoid  any  such  conclusion.  Care- 
lessness, neglect,  denial,  treachery,  sin — are  all 
bad  enough.  Do  not  let  us  exaggerate  their 
frequency,  or  their  scope,  or  their  intensity. 
Our  Lord  Himself  seems  to  feel  some  surprise. 
And  that  in  itself  is  surprising.  For  He  knew 
the  human  heart.     He  knew  what  was   in  man. 


MOST    POPULAR    SIN    IN    WORLD      153 

It  is  only  twice  recorded  that  He  was  astonished, 
once  at  the  Faith,  and  once  at  the  Unfaith,  of 
men.  But  here  He  seems  to  express  Himself 
with  a  pained  wonder :  "  Were  not  the  ten 
cleansed?  But  where  are  the  nine?  Were 
there  none  found  to  give  glory  to  God,  save  this 
alien  ?  "  Perhaps  there  was  really  more  grati- 
tude than  was  uttered.  The  emotions  of  their 
hearts  may  have  been  more  gracious  than  their 
actions  showed. 

It  is  the  stupid  thoughtlessness  of  life  which 
brings  such  pain.  Why  do  we  hurt  one  another 
as  we  do?  Not  because  we  want  to  hurt.  Not 
because  we  hate  one  another.  Cases  of  deliberate 
cruelty  are,  after  all,  rare.  There  are  perversions 
of  our  nature  in  which  the  perpetration  of  cruelty 
brings  actual  pleasure.  There  are  no  depths  to 
which  humanity,  once  given  over  to  the  service 
of  the  flesh,  may  not  sink.  But  in  those  cases 
the  pain  is  inflicted  for  the  sake  of  the  pleasure 
which  it  brings,  not  for  the  sake  of  the  pain 
which  it  causes  to  another.  Jealousy  and  revenge, 
to  be  sure,  stir  men  to  deeds  of  violence,  in  which 
they  inflict  pain,  and  long  to  inflict  it,  and  love 
to  do  it.  I  am  not  denying  that  anybody  ever 
hurts  anybody  else  because  he  wishes  to  hurt  him. 
That  would  be  absurd.  I  am  affirming  that  these 
cases  are  relatively  infrequent,  are  few  and  far 
between  as  compared  with  the  ten  thousand 
times  ten  thousand  instances  in  which  we  cause 
each  other  pain  out  of  sheer  carelessness,  folly, 
and  stupidity. 


154     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

'Tis  not  by  guilt  the  onward  sweep 
Of  truth  and  right,  O  Lord,  we  stay; 

'Tis  by  our  follies  that  so  long 
We  hold  the  earth  from  heaven  away. 

These  clumsy  feet,  still  in  the  mire, 
Go  crushing  blossoms  without  end; 

These  hard,  well-meaning  hands  we  thrust 
Among  the  heart-strings  of  a  friend. 


It  is  tlius  with  our  Ingratitude.  We  have  no 
desire  to  be  brutal.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  tell 
ourselves,  we  really  did  appreciate  the  kindness, 
and  we  only  did  not  think  to  say  how  much  we 
felt!  That  is  all.  "I  never  thought  of  it!" 
That  is  our  excuse.  That  is  the  fact.  And  that 
is  our  condemnation.  We  never  thought  about 
it!  And  then  we  try  to  comfort  ourselves  by  the 
reflection  that  "  Anyway,  he  knew  I  was  pleased 
and  that  I  really  was  grateful."  It  is  a  large 
assumption.  It  is  lacking  in  courtesy.  It  is 
dangerous.  Why  should  you  assume  that  some- 
one else  will  assume  this  and  that.f^  Why  should 
you  assume  that  he — or  generally  she — is  com- 
petent to  divine  what  you  were  incompetent  to 
express?  Why  credit  the  other  person  with 
penetration  so  much  greater  than  your  own?  You 
are  not  always  so  modest.  And  why  leave  it  to 
be  assumed  at  all?  In  such  a  world  as  this, 
with  its  real  sorrows,  with  its  heads  that  ache 
and  its  hearts  that  break,  with  its  humiliating 
sickness,  crushing  poverty,  shame,  pain,  and  death, 
why  leave  unexpressed  the  kindly  thought,  unsaid 
the  gracious  word,  which  had  been  as  a  ray  of 


MOST    POPULAR    SIN    IN    WORLD      155 

sunlight  in  a  world  of  sin?  When  these  kindly, 
gracious  feelings  possess  you,  tell  your  gratitude 
and  tell  your  love.  Where  are  the  nine?  For 
one,  lo,  Here  am  I ! 

I  have  said  that  I  do  not  want  to  deny  that 
base  ingratitude  is  often  seen.  I  have  only  sought 
to  keep  it  within  the  bounds  of  fact,  not  to  add 
to  its  terrors  by  imagining  that  it  is  worse  than 
it  is.  Our  Lord  was  called  upon  to  taste  its 
bitterness  in  a  thousand  ways.  Between  the  care- 
lessness of  the  lepers  and  the  vileness  of  Iscariot, 
He  suffered  to  the  fullest  from  man's  ingratitude. 
In  every  phase,  we  see  the  same  ingratitude  re- 
peated before  our  eyes. 

We  see  it  in  the  Jiome. 

On  this  theme  Shakespeare  brought  his  mightiest 
powers  to  bear.  Where  else,  in  all  our  English 
tongue,  will  you  find  the  piteous  cry  of  wounded 
love  which  you  find  in  "  King  Lear  "  ?  Where  else 
will  you  encounter  the  wild  storms  which  there 
break  over  the  outraged  father's  soul?  I  re- 
member a  great  critic  describing  the  "  Lear  "  which 
he  had  just  witnessed,  its  darkness,  its  splen- 
dours, its  rage,  tears,  pity.  And  he  ended  his 
notice  with  some  such  words  as  these :  "  And  so 
I  stepped  forth  out  of  the  world  of  the  theatre 
into  the  real  world  of  the  streets.  Real?  But 
•what  is  real,  if  'King  Lear'  is  not?" 

We  men  sin  daily,  in  our  "  real "  world,  not 
meaning  to  sin.  An  English  literary  man  once 
wrote  me  a  strange,  pathetic  letter.  "  Do  you 
not  often  fall  into  a  rage,"  he  asked,  "  when  you 


156  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

have  had  some  paltry,  popular  success,  and  the 
people  are  applauding  you;  and  you  know  full 
well  that  this  success  is  not  yours  at  all,  but  the 
success  of  the  woman  who  sits  at  home,  and  on 
whose  strength  you  lean?  I  do.  I  love  the 
applause,  and  I  hate  it.  I  prize  the  success,  and 
I  detest  it.  I  am  humbled  and  maddened  when 
I  think  that  this  success  is  not  mine  but  hers. 
And  I  long  to  see  her  honoured  in  her  own  city 
and  amongst  the  people  who  have  never  known 
her  for  the  Great  Soul  that  she  is ! "  As  if,  O 
my  knight-errant  of  unpraised  wives,  there  is 
one  woman  in  a  million  who  would  care  for  all 
the  paragraphing  and  all  the  praising,  compared 
with  enthronement  in  an  enduring,  grateful 
love! 

But  there  is  no  sex  in  sin — as  Shakespeare  saw 
and  showed,  and  the  Hebrew  prophet  before  him. 
The  man  who,  first  in  the  history  of  the  human 
race,  taught  the  all-comprehending,  indestructible, 
seeking  and  saving  love  of  God,  learned  His 
deathless  truth  in  the  desolation  of  his  own 
domestic  life.  Betrayed  and  deserted  by  the 
unwifely  wife  whom  he  loved,  into  whose  sense- 
less, unresponsive  soul  he  poured  the  wealth 
of  his  rich  affection,  buying  her  back  from  the 
slave-market  to  which  her  vices  brought  her, 
loving  her  through  all,  Hosea  won  his  way  to 
place  with  the  Immortals.  Change  the  scene; 
re-clothe  the  characters  in  modern  garb ;  call 
the  slave-market  by  another  name;  and  the 
tragedy    of   Hosea   is   the   tragedy   which   walks 


MOST    POPULAR    SIN    IN    WORLD      157 

by  your  side  or — God  pity  you ! — waits  for  you 
at  home.  But  when  the  thorn-crowns  of  all  the 
crucified  of  earth  are  one  day  exchanged  for  the 
diadems  of  conquerors,  the  man  who  has  been 
faithful  to  a  faithless  heart  and  loving  in  an 
unloving  home,  shall  receive  the  homage  of  great 
ones  amongst  the  redeemed,  and  the  "  Well  done !  " 
of  his  Lord. 

You  have  seen  all  this,  and  felt  all  this,  more 
or  less  distinctly.  And  you  have  seen  it,  too, 
in  the  strange,  awful  cruelty  of  which  children's 
hearts  are  capable.  It  is  very  wonderful.  Were 
the  unrealised  and  unreahsable  tortures  of  the 
Inquisition  more  terrible  to  flesh  and  blood  than 
the  sufferings  with  which  your  sons  and  daughters 
have  wounded  your  soul.'*  I  do  not  need  to 
quote  to  you  historic  instances:  my  mind  is 
charged  with  sadness.  For  as  I  speak,  the 
memories  of  the  years  crowd  on  me,  and  I  see 
again  what  I  have  had  to  see  in  the  homes  of 
dear  ones,  and  in  the  lives  of  men  and  women 
whose  sorrows  I  have  been  allowed  to  share. 
What  blows  has  a  boy  struck  at  his  mother's 
tender  breast !  What  dagger-thrusts  has  a  father 
received  from  those  to  whom  he  had  given  life! 
Have  you  seen  a  mother  tremble  at  the  sound 
of  the  footsteps  of  her  eldest-born?  Have  you 
seen  the  strong  head  which  was  carried  so  proudly 
in  the  day  bend  with  shame  at  night,  and  the 
big  man  whiten  to  the  lips  and  quiver  as  an 
aspen  leaf,  as  the  news  was  broken  to  him  of  a 
son's   or  daughter's  fall?     O  God,  who   art  the 


158     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

Father-God,  who  made  the  mother's  heart  and 
made  it  hke  Thine  own,  take  care  of  these  men 
and  women  who  suffer  through  their  children's 
sin !  O  God,  who  dost  love  us  all,  keep  our  boys 
and  girls  from  the  sin  and  shame  which  bruise 
the  souls  of  those  who  love  them  best ! 

I  have  wondered  sometimes  whether  when  we 
were  young  we  were  capable  of  the  cold-blooded 
inhumanity  which  I  have  seen  in  the  treatment 
of  parents  by  their  own  flesh  and  blood.  If  we 
were  capable  of  it,  were  we  only  safeguarded  from 
the  actual  commission  of  it  by  favouring  circum- 
stance? Or  were  there  truly  in  our  lives  exhibi- 
tions of  this  deadly  temper  towards  those  who 
loved  us?  Perhaps  this  cruel  ingratitude  is  not 
at  heart  so  cruel  as  we  think.  Perhaps,  that  is 
to  say,  it  is  not  conscious,  deliberate,  under- 
stood cruelty  at  all.  It  is  lack  of  imagination; 
it  is  the  sin  of  stupidity ;  it  is  sheer  thought- 
lessness, not  sheer  wickedness.  Let  us  hope  that 
this  is  true.  It  is  bad  enough  then.  Where  are 
the  nine? 

We  see  this  ingratitude  in  common  service,  the 
service  which,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  life,  man 
renders  to  man  in  the  community. 

A  strong  man  says  in  the  pride  of  achievement, 
"  Never  since  I  was  a  boy  have  I  been  under 
obligation  to  any  human  being."  Nonsense — 
arrant  nonsense!  You  are  under  obligation  to  a 
hundred  unknown,  lowly  workers,  and  under 
obligation,  too,  to  the  greatest  of  mankind. 
You  are  debtor  to  the  policeman  on  his  round, 


MOST    POPULAR    SIN    IN    WORLD      159 

the  deep-sea  fishermen  off  the  banks,  the  stoker 
in  the  furnace-room  of  the  ocean  liner,  the  driver 
on  the  swift  express  or  electric  car,  and  the  man 
who  drops  the  fenders  between  the  ferry  boat 
and  the  stage!  Many  years  ago  Rudyard 
Kipling  administered  a  rebuke  to  the  swash- 
bucklers of  Empire  who.  In  time  of  disturbance, 
fawn  upon  the  private  soldier  as  though  he  were 
one  of  the  Immortal  gods  descended  from  Olym- 
pus, and  then,  when  the  war-drum  has  ceased  for 
a  time  Its  feverish  throbbing,  treat  the  same  man 
as  though  he  were  the  offscouring  of  humanity. 
You  remember; 

Makin'  mock  at  uniforms  that  guard  you  while  you  sleep 
Is   cheaper   than   them   uniforms,   and   they're   starvation 
cheap ! 

And  we,  who  hate  the  soldier's  trade,  lift  up  our 
voices  In  demand  for  just  and  grateful  considera- 
tion of  every  man  to  whom  Society  Is  debtor, 
for  human  hearts  that  beat  beneath  every  uni- 
form, soldier-red  and  sailor-blue,  greasy  jacket 
of  the  artisan,  and  nondescript  rags  and  dirt  of 
the  man  who  sweeps  the  streets.  You  think  that 
all  obligations  can  be  discharged  by  a  cash  pay- 
ment? That  3^ou  owe  no  man  anything  because 
the  toller  is  paid  a  wage  which  keeps  him  one- 
sixteenth  of  an  Inch  on  this  side  starvation, 
and  because  he  has  before  his  eyes  the  assured 
prospect  of  a  bed  In  a  workhouse  ward?  That 
you  owe  no  man  anything  because  you  have 
bought  your  railway  ticket  or  paid  your  car-fare 


160     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

or  satisfied  the  tax-collector  when  he  called  the 
fourth  time?  Have  done  with  such  paltry  con- 
ceptions of  human  obligation.  We  live  hy  each 
other,  for  each  other,  upon  each  other!  Yes, 
**  upon  "  each  other — not  as  brigands  and  still 
less  as  cannibals  might ;  but  each  lives  upon  the 
sweat  of  the  brow,  or  sweat  of  the  brain,  or  great 
heart-agony,  of  his  fellows. 

We  are  debtor  to  the  Greek  and  to  the  bar- 
barian, to  men  of  thought  as  well  as  men  of 
action,  to  the  highly  placed  as  to  the  lowly  born. 
We  are  debtor  to  Guardians  and  Councillors,  to 
Magistrates  and  Judges,  to  Statesmen  and  Im- 
perial Administrators.  There  is  wisdom  as  well 
as  wit,  spirituality  as  well  as  sarcasm,  In  Lyman 
Beecher's  prayer,  "  O  God,  help  us  not  to  despise 
our  rulers !  And,  Lord,  help  them  not  to  act 
so  that  we  can't  help  It ! "  It  hurts  us  to  con- 
temn our  rulers.  They  do  us  an  Injury  when 
they  live  so  that  we  can't  help  it.  We  are  debtor 
to  novelists,  poets,  dramatists,  painters,  com- 
posers, historians,  men  of  science,  men  of  the 
microscope  and  telescope ;  we  are  debtor  to  the 
pioneer  of  free  thought,  the  martyr  of  liberty, 
the  prophet  of  brotherhood! 

Commonplace  illustrations  of  our  strange  ca- 
pacity for  ingratitude  are  numerous  as  the  sands 
of  the  sea.  Where  a  crowd  Is  assembled,  there 
are  just  as  many  Illustrations  walking  about  as 
there  are  people  there. 

I  have  no  words  to  tell  the  amazement  and 
pain  with  which  a  preacher  so  often  puts  the 
question :     "  Where   are  the  nine  ?  "      The    light 


MOST    POPULAR    SIN    IN    WORLD      l6l 

and  easy  way  In  which  people  hold  by  their 
Church  obligations  passes  all  belief.  The  last 
thing  which  you  think  about,  when  you  are  taking 
a  new  house,  is  how  it  will  affect  your  attendance 
at  your  Church.  You  think  about  its  nearness 
to  the  tram ;  its  convenience  for  the  shops ;  its 
distance  from  your  work.  But  its  convenience 
or  inconvenience  for  Church — that  comes  last! 
How  often  does  a  preacher  seek  out  some  wan- 
dering member  of  his  flock,  to  be  told,  "  Oh, 
don't  you  know,  we  have  gone  to  live  too  far 
away."  Well,  that  is  an  admirable  reason  for 
leaving  your  new  house.  It  is  no  reason  at  all 
for  leaving  your  old  Church.  And  at  other  times, 
for  a  something,  a  nothing,  a  breath,  a  look,  a 
rumour  too  silly  to  be  contradicted,  a  supposi- 
tion which  has  never  had  the  shadow  of  reality, 
you  are  prepared  to  throw  overboard  every  shred 
of  conviction  and  fidelity.  It  Is  good  for  none 
of  us,  not  for  the  weakest  nor  the  strongest,  not 
for  the  richest  nor  the  poorest,  to  bind  ourselves 
to  the  life  of  a  great  Church  with  ropes  of  sand, 
and  repudiate  responsibility  for  it  at  the  first 
prompting  of  caprice.  And  if  God  has  opened 
His  hand  and  showered  blessings  upon  our  path, 
let  us  pay  our  inextinguishable  debt  of  gratitude 
to  City,  Church,  and  Home. 

There  Is  another  side  to  this  consideration  of 
ingratitude.  That  we  must  not  Ignore.  It  Is  as 
wide,  it  Is  as  important,  as  the  one  which  we  have 
discussed.  It  Is :  The  spirit  in  •which  ingratitude 
must  he  endured. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  minimise  the  pain  with 


162     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

which  experience  of  ingratitude,  developing 
treachery  and  hate,  wrings  our  suffering  hearts. 
I  know  the  chill,  as  of  approaching  death,  which 
freezes  the  genial  emotions  of  the  soul,  and  almost 
stops  the  beating  of  the  heart.  I  am  not  going 
to  pretend  that  you  have  not  been  wounded 
well-nigh  to  death  by  some  such  deep,  tragic 
sorrow. 

But  the  ills  of  life  must  be  borne.  And  without 
delivering  ourselves  into  the  custody  of  a  silly 
optimism,  it  is  good  gospel  and  good  sense  to 
inquire  where  we  may  find  the  right  spirit  in 
which  to  face  them  all.  And  I  suggest  to  you, 
first,  that  sometimes  the  one  who  suffers  from 
ingratitude  has  not  been  altogether  free  from 
blame. 

There  is  a  way  of  doing  a  kindness  which  is 
detestable.  You  can  do  a  friend  a  favour  in  a 
way  to  make  him  hate  you.  It  is  a  safe  rule,  and 
full  of  profit,  if  you  are  going  to  do  a  nice  thing, 
to  do  it  nicely.  If  it  is  worth  while  to  do  a 
gracious  deed,  it  is  worth  while  to  be  gracious 
over  it.  In  a  tiny  booklet  called  "  Great  Truths," 
the  writer,  a  certain  William  George  Jordan,  has 
a  chapter  on  "  The  Courage  to  Face  Ingrati- 
tude." And  upon  this  very  point  he  picturesquely 
remarks,  "  The  man  who  makes  another  feel 
like  an  insect  reclining  on  a  red-hot  stove  while 
he  is  receiving  a  favour,  has  no  right  to  expect 
gratitude;  he  should  feel  satisfied  if  he  receives 
forgiveness ! " 

But  now,  without  assuming  that  you  have  in 


MOST    POPULAR    SIN    IN    WORLD      163 

any  way  contributed  to  your  own  discomfiture, 
nay,  assuming  that  you  have  not,  assuming  that 
your  kindness  has  been  perfect  with  the  per- 
fection of  the  God  who  prompted  it,  let  me  urge 
this  upon  you:  Do  not  condemn  the  •whole  world 
for  the  sms  of  a  few.  Do  not  say,  "  This  is 
human  life,  and  I  am  sick  of  such  treachery!" 
How  far  removed  are  you  from  the  other  man's 
injustice,  when  you  condemn  the  human  race  for 
the  offences  of  the  two  or  three  people  who  have 
treated  you  badly  ?  You  must  let  me  quote  Jordan 
again :  "  If  a  man  receives  a  counterfeit  coin  he 
does  not  straightway  lose  his  faith  in  all  money 
— at  least,  there  are  no  such  instances  on  record 
in  this  country.  .  .  .  If  a  man's  breakfast 
is  rendered  an  unpleasant  memory  by  some  item 
of  food  which  has  outlived  its  usefulness,  he  does 
not  forswear  eating.  .  .  .  If  a  man  finds 
under  a  tree  an  apple  with  a  suspicious-looking 
hole  on  one  side,  he  does  not  condemn  the  whole 
orchard;  he  simply  confines  his  criticism  to  that 
apple.  .  .  .  There  is  too  much  vicarious 
suffering  already  in  this  earth  of  ours  without 
this  Lilliputian  attempt  to  extend  it  by  syndicat- 
ing one  man's  ingratitude." 

Again!  Why  should  you  expect  gratitude? 
Nay;  I  put  it  to  you  in  aU  seriousness.  You  do 
not  want  to  serv^e  God  on  what  Jordan  would  call 
"  a  salary  basis."  You  do  not  want  to  be  good 
"  for  a  bonus."  If  gratitude  comes,  that  is 
something  thrown  in  as  a  makeweight.  Your 
reward  is  in  the  good  that  you  have  done.     That, 


164  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

no  man  can  take  from  you.  A  good  and  great 
man  was  sore  at  heart  because  of  the  thankless- 
ness  of  the  people  whom  he  tried  to  help.  And 
I  said  to  him,  "  Cheer  up,  old  friend !  I  have  been 
where  you  are.  You  have  to  go  on  mending 
people's  broken  bodies,  I  have  to  do  my  little 
best  in  mending  their  broken  lives,  and  the 
cabinet-maker  mends  the  broken  chairs  and  tables ; 
and  why  should  our  cripples  thank  us  any  more 
than  his  thank  him?  "  "  Just  so,"  said  my  friend, 
"  but  if  I  mended  chairs  and  tables  I  should  have 
some  reasonable  hope  that  some  day  they  would 
be  of  use  to  somebody.  But  these  men  and  women 
will  never  be  of  any  value  to  anybody  in  this 
world."  We  say  those  things ;  but  we  don't 
mean  them.  We  only  say  them  from  the  teeth 
outward.  Five  minutes  afterward  we  remember 
that  the  acid  juices  of  the  unripe  fruit  become 
sweet  in  the  sunshine.  Of  the  worthlessness  of 
any  human  being  it  is  not  ours  to  judge.  Jesus 
thought  men  worth  living  and  worth  dying  for. 
Contempt  of  human  nature  is  blasphemy  against 
the  Cross. 

There  is  one  other  word  to  say.  If  you  feel 
as  though  your  heart  was  broken  by  the  thank- 
lessness  of  those  whom  you  have  helped,  con- 
sider. When  you  live  on,  in  service,  in  sacrifice, 
pouring  your  rich,  conquering  life  into  the  spirit- 
ually anaemic,  into  the  weak,  the  helpless,  and 
the  lost,  when  you  do  this  amid  failure,  mortifi- 
cation, bafflement,  you  link  yourself  with  the 
truest,  bravest,  noblest  heroes  of  all  time.     There 


MOST    POPULAR    SIN    IN    WORLD      165 

is  no  courage  like  this.  It  is  the  supreme  chivalry 
of  earth.  To  die  is  facile:  to  live  so  difficult. 
Oh,  how  hard  it  is  to  be  a  Christian !  To  die 
to  make  men  free  is  the  anguish  of  an  hour: 
to  live  to  make  them  holy,  the  consecration  of 
a  life.  The  essence  of  heroism  is  its  persistence. 
Anybody  can  be  good  at  a  sprint.  But  to  keep 
on  being  good — that  is  what  troubles  us.  To 
be  good  to  bad  people,  kind  to  the  cruel,  gra- 
cious to  the  unthankful  and  evil,  to  keep  a  smil- 
ing, radiant  face  and  a  warm,  loving  heart,  to 
hold  one's  faith  in  Man  undimmed  and  trust  in 
God  unquenched — this  is  to  join  hands  with  the 
Christs  of  all  the  ages,  to  die  with  the  Lord  Christ 
on  Calvary,  and  by  His  open  grave  to  live  again. 
The  Son  of  God  goes  forth  to  war — against 
ugliness,  stupidity,  disease,  selfishness,  and  sin: 
Who  follows  in  His  train.? 


X 

THE  HANDS  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD 


A  Cardinal  Legate,  sent  from  Rome  to  discuss  matters 
privately  with  Luther  at  Augsburg:  "  What  do  you  think 
the  Pope  cares  for  the  opinion  of  a  German  boor?  The 
Pope's  little  finger  is  stronger  than  all  Germany.  Do  you 
expect  your  princes  to  take  up  arms  to  defend  you — you,  a 
wretched  worm  like  you?  I  tell  you,  No!  and  where  will 
you  be  then — where  will  you  be  then  ?  " 

Luther:  "  Where  I  am  now:  in  the  hands  of  Almighty 
God." 


THE   HANDS   OF   THE  LIVING  GOD 

"  It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living 
God." — Hebrews  x,  31. 

The  world's  hatred  of  the  renegade  and  the 
traitor  breathe  through  these  terrible  words. 
Storms  of  human  emotion,  of  human  resentment, 
such  as  have  swept  over  our  own  souls  when  a 
friend  has  betrayed  us,  or  a  comrade  fallen 
from  the  ranks,  have  moved  the  heart  of  the 
unnamed  writer  of  the  letter  to  the  Hebrews. 
That  which  with  the  Pagan  becomes  a  frantic 
invocation — 

Oh,  for  a  tongue  to  curse  the  slave. 
Whose  treason,  like  a  deadly  blight. 

Comes  o'er  the  councils  of  the  brave, 
And  blasts  them  in  their  hour  of  might! — 

with  its  frightful  prayer — 

And  when  from  earth  his  spirit  flies. 
Just  Prophet,  let  the  damned  one  dwell, 

Full  in  the  sight  of  Paradise, 

Beholding  heaven  and  feeling  hell! — 

that  which  with  the  Christian  poet  becomes  an 
infinite  pity  for 

One  lost  soul  more. 

One  task  more  dechned,  one  more  footpath  untrod. 

One  more  devil's  triumph,  and  sorrow  for  angels — 

One  wrong  more  to  man,  one  more  insult  to  God, 

169 


170  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

becomes  with  the  New  Testament  writer  a 
*'  certain  fearful  expectation  of  judgment,  a 
fierceness  of  fire."  To  him  there  seems,  for 
one  who  has  so  deserted  the  Lord  who  bought 
him  with  His  blood,  no  more  sacrifice  for  sin. 
The  death  which  he  would  have  merited  had  he 
set  at  naught  the  law  of  Moses  is  too  mild  a 
punishment  for  a  dastard  such  as  he.  He  has 
trodden  under  foot  the  Son  of  God!  He  has 
counted  the  blood  of  the  covenant  wherewith  he 
was  sanctified  a  thing  profane!  He  has  rejected 
with  insolence  the  ministry  of  the  Spirit  of  Grace ! 
Vengeance  now  belongeth  unto  God.  He  will 
recompense!  And  it  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  living  God! 

Not  for  the  traitor  only,  but  for  all  who  sin 
against  Law  and  Light  and  Love,  is  It  a  fearful 
thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God. 
And  it  is  not  less  fearful,  but  more  fearful,  as 
Henry  Drummond  suggests,  to  us  who  see  in 
"  the  hands  of  the  living  God  the  laws  of  Nature." 
Neither  by  the  individual  nor  by  the  commu- 
nity is  God  mocked.  There  is  no  workhouse,  no 
prison,  no  asylum,  no  hospital,  where  the  seeing 
eye  cannot  perceive  how  fearful  a  thing  it  is. 
There  is  no  man  who  has  loved  hatred  and 
hated  love,  no  selfish  soul  sinning  with  a  high 
hand  and  a  determined  purpose,  no  vicious  man 
sowing  the  wind  of  ungodly  appetite  to  reap  the 
whirlwind  of  Divine  retribution,  who  does  not 
demonstrate  to  us  before  the  grave  closes  over 
his   unhonoured  dust  the   fearfulness   of   such   a 


THE    HANDS    OF    THE    LIVING    GOD     171 

fall.  The  laws  which  God  has  written  upon  the 
body  and  brain  of  man,  which  He  has  written 
with  His  own  finger  upon  our  physical  organism 
more  plainly  than  any  He  wrote  upon  the  tables 
of  stone  amid  Sinai  thunders  in  days  gone  by, 
are  broken  by  no  man  with  impunity.  Every 
act  of  sin  is  self-destructive.  Every  act  of  sin 
is  suicidal.  It  avenges  itself.  No  public  prose- 
cutor is  needed  in  such  a  court,  no  open  assize. 
But  the  forces  of  vengeance  are  loosed  by  the 
act  which  violates  the  law.  "  In  this  God's 
world,  with  its  wild  whirling  eddies  and  mad 
foam-oceans,  where  men  and  nations  perish  as  if 
without  law,  and  judgment  for  an  unjust  thing 
is  sternly  delayed,  dost  thou  think  that  there  is 
therefore  no  justice?  It  is  what  the  fool  hath 
said  in  his  heart.  It  is  what  the  wise,  in  all  times, 
were  wise  because  they  denied  and  knew  for  ever 
not  to  be.  I  tell  thee  again,  there  is  nothing  else 
but  justice.  One  strong  thing  I  find  here  below: 
the  just  thing,  the  true  thing!  "  * 

But  why  should  we  think  exclusively  of  punish- 
ment and  terror  when  we  think  of  the  hands  of 
the  living  God?  Why,  but  for  the  reason  that 
we  systematically  harden  texts  and  misread  facts 
and  interpret  the  laws  of  the  universe  with  eyes 
closed  to  its  gladness  and  beauty?  Some  of  our 
most  frequently  quoted  texts  are  misquoted,  and 
invariably  with  the  result  that  we  narrow  God's 
love  and  embitter  His  justice.  Why  is  it,  for 
instance,  that  when  we  bring  ourselves  to  say, 
"  Thy  will  be  done,"  it  is  in  the  hour  of  bereave- 
*  Carlyle:  "  Past  and  Present." 


172     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

ment,  of  anguish,  and  loss?  That  God's  will  is 
to  us  synonymous  with  the  infliction  of  sorrow, 
and  our  acceptance  of  it  the  endurance  of  pain? 
Does  it  never  occur  to  us  to  pray  this  prayer 
amid  the  splendour  of  life,  in  the  vigour  of  youth, 
in  the  pride  of  health,  when  the  sky  is  bright 
overhead  and  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  and 
the  glories  of  them  seem  ours  for  the  grasping? 
Amid  the  whirl  and  din  of  life's  complex  ma- 
chinery, in  its  commercial  strifes  and  political 
contests,  when  civic  patriotism  glows  fervently 
and  national  aspirations  are  at  once  tender  and 
strong,  and  we  long  to  plant  the  good  seed  in 
the  broad  fields  of  European  democracy,  why 
should  we  not  then  pray  the  mighty  prayer,  "  Thy 
will  be  done  "  ? 

Do  you  call  to  mind  the  way  in  which  we  use 
— or  misuse — the  old  saying,  "  Faint,  yet  pur- 
suing "  ?  When  we  have  been  selfish  and  idle 
at  the  worst,  or  unfortunate  and  depressed  at 
the  best,  when  the  work  has  seemed  to  fail  in 
our  hands,  and  we  are  almost  reduced  to  despair, 
then  we  add  to  our  confession  of  defeat,  "  Faint, 
yet  pursuing  " !  But  turn  to  the  story  of  those 
barbarous  fighters,  faint,  yet  pursuing.  They 
were  flushed  with  victory.  They  were  weary 
of  up  piling  triumph  on  triumph,  of  adding 
glory  unto  glory — the  glory  of  battle  and  blood. 
They  had  driven  their  enemies  before  them  re- 
morselessly. Nothing  now  could  block  their  on- 
ward march.    And  still  they  pressed  on  to  greater 


THE    HANDS    OF    THE    LIVING    GOD     173 

achievements.  They  were  faint  with  the  strenuous 
exertion  of  success,  but  pursuing  still  a  success 
which  was  greater. 

Foolish  beyond  words  has  been  our  way  of 
quoting,  "  Thou,  God,  seest  me."  We  have 
told  an  absurd  story  about  some  prisoner  or 
other  in  a  cell  somewhere,  upon  whom,  through 
a  chink  of  the  wall,  glared  everlastingly  a  human 
eye.  Day  and  night  this  eye  was  fixed  upon  him, 
until  the  man  went  mad  under  the  unendurable 
torture.  And  when  we  have  told  this  wretched 
story  we  have  added  as  a  fitting  moral,  "  Thou, 
God,  seest  me " !  But,  once  again,  turn  to  the 
story,  and  you  find  that  a  slave  girl,  who  has 
been  ill-treated  by  her  owners,  by  the  jealous 
wife  of  a  complaisant  man  to  whom  a  slave's 
sufferings  were  nothing  compared  with  his  own 
peace  of  mind,  has  escaped  from  the  house  of 
oppression,  and  is  breathing  the  free  air  of  the 
desert.  And  here  in  the  wilderness  the  angel 
of  the  Lord  appears  to  her,  and  to  this  betrayed, 
deserted  creature,  a  fugitive  from  the  house 
which  should  have  been  a  haven  to  her,  brings  a 
message  of  hope  and  gladness,  a  promise  of  the 
sacred  gift  of  motherhood,  and  a  prediction  of  a 
splendid  future  for  her  child,  whose  prowess  shall 
make  him  and  his  descendants  world-great  for 
ages.  And  in  her  new  trust  and  new  life  the 
girl  feels  what,  thank  God,  many  of  us  have 
felt  and  known,  that  God  is  mindful  of  us  when 
we  forget  Him,  and  careful  of  us  when  we  are 


174  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

careless  of  ourselves ;  and  she  voices  her  thanks- 
giving in  this  happy  phrase,  "  Thou  art  a  God 
that  seest  me," 

In  the  same  way  we  see  the  possible  harshness, 
we  see  the  threat  and  the  terror,  in  the  working 
out  of  these  eternal  laws,  and  we  feel,  as  the 
writer  of  this  epistle  felt,  that  it  is  a  fearful 
thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God. 
But  David,  human,  erring  David,  had  a  better 
idea  than  this.  His  offence  is  rank,  it  smells  to 
heaven,  and  a  choice  is  given  him  by  the  man  of 
God,  a  choice  of  three  evils — famine,  pestilence, 
and  sword.  Which  shall  he  choose?  Seven  years 
of  famine?  Three  days  of  plague?  Three 
months  of  hazardous  and  disgraceful  war?  And 
David's  answer  shows  him  at  his  noblest :  "  Let 
us  fall  now  into  the  hands  of  the  Lord;  for  His 
mercies  are  great;  and  let  me  not  fall  into  the 
hands  of  man." 

Jesus,  the  son  of  Sirach,  had  entered  more 
completely  into  the  mind  of  the  Lord  than  we 
who  only  read  one-half  His  gracious  purposes. 
"  They  that  fear  the  Lord,"  he  declares,  "  will 
prepare  their  hearts  and  humble  their  souls  in 
His  sight,  saying,  We  will  fall  into  the  hands  of 
the  Lord,  and  not  into  the  hands  of  men ;  for 
as  His  majesty  is,  so  is  His  mercy."  As  His 
majesty  is,  so  is  His  mercy — recalling  Micah's 
noble  utterance  that  "  He  delighteth  in  mercy  " — 
delighteth  in  it  as  a  man  delights  in  a  loving 
service;  recalling  the  poet's  image  of  Weeping, 
which  may  come,  but  comes  only  as  a  traveller 


THE    HANDS    OF    THE    LIVING    GOD     175 

to  lodge  at  night,  while  Joy  comes  to  dwell  In 
the  morning;  recalling  the  prophet's  sublime  an- 
nouncement on  the  part  of  Jehovah,  that  "  though 
in  a  moment  of  wrath  I  hid  My  face  from  thee, 
yet  with  everlasting  kindness  will  I  have  mercy 
upon  thee,  saith  the  Lord  thy  Redeemer ;  though 
the  mountains  depart  and  the  hills  be  removed, 
yet  My  kindness  shall  not  depart  nor  My  peace 
be  removed  from  thee,  saith  the  Lord  who  hath 
mercy  upon  thee " ;  recalling  the  Sinaitic  reve- 
lation we  persistently  ignore,  that  if  God  visits 
the  sins  of  the  parents  upon  the  children  to 
the  third  and  fourth  generation,  yet  He  shows 
mercy  unto  the  tJiousandth  generation  (and  not 
to  thousands)  of  them  that  love  Him  and  keep 
His  commandments ;  recalling  Faber's  inspired 
and  inspiring  verse: 

His  love  looks  mighty. 
But  is  mightier  than  it  seems; 
'Tis  our  Father,  and  His  fondness 
Goes  far  out  beyond  our  dreams. 

There's  a  wideness  in  God's  mercy. 

Like  the  wideness  of  the  sea ; 
There's  a  kindness  in  His  justice. 

Which  is  more  than  liberty! 

And  so,  when  we  are  told  that  it  is  a  fearful 
thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God, 
we  cannot  but  assent ;  but  we  hasten  to  add  that 
it  would  be  a  far  more  fearful  thing  to  fall  out  of 
them!  It  would  be  a  fearful  thing  if  there  were 
no  such  laws  of  judgment  and  terror  as  are  repre- 
sented  to   us  by   the  phrase  we  are   discussing. 


176  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

If  a  man  could  persist  in  wrong-doing,  and  no 
catastrophe  befall;  if  a  nation  could  defy  justice 
and  humanity  and  virtue,  and  no  thunders  roll 
nor  lightnings  flash,  then  that  would  be  an  evil 
thing  for  us,  and  not  good.  "  If  it  had  not 
been  for  the  French  Revolution,"  said  Carlyle, 
in  often-quoted  words,  "  I  should  not  have  known 
what  to  make  of  this  world  at  all."  And  Mr. 
George  Kennan  has  added,  concerning  the  shame- 
ful administration  of  Russia,  the  shocking  mal- 
treatment of  the  noblest  of  the  Russian  people: 
"  If  I  thought  this  could  permanently  endure,  it 
would  not  be  possible  for  me  to  believe  in  any 
intelligent  Power,  at  least,  in  any  intelligent 
Moral  Power,  behind  the  visible  phenomena  of 
the  universe."  It  is  good  for  us  that  we  should 
know  the  terrors  of  the  law,  if  we  will  not  learn 
by  the  tenderness  of  love.  If  we  will  not  suffer 
ourselves  to  be  drawn  by  the  silken  cords  of 
affection,  it  is  well  that  we  should  be  driven  at 
the  point  of  the  sword.  If  we  will  not  draw 
back  from  the  danger  before  us  when  He  breathes 
His  peace  upon  us,  then  it  is  good  of  Him,  and 
good  to  us,  to  light  up  the  abysmal  depths  to- 
wards which  our  steps  are  tending  by  the  lightning 
flashes  of  His  wrath.  We  are  glad  that  we  do 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God. 

But  on  quite  other  grounds  than  those  of 
punishment  and  terror  try  to  think  what  it 
would  be  if  it  were  possible  for  us  to  fall  out  of 
the  hands  of  the  living  God.  In  the  Wiertz 
Museum  at  Brussels    may   be  seen   some  of  the 


THE    HANDS    OF    THE    LIVING    GOD     177 

most  horrible  pictures  which  man  has  succeeded 
in  painting  yet.  That  strange  genius,  a  worse 
than  Zola  upon  canvas,  whose  mind  revelled  in 
the  ghastly  and  the  tragic,  has  shown  us,  with  a 
positively  hideous  and  yet  fascinating  realism, 
a  maniac  mother  who  has  killed,  and  who  is 
preparing  for  food,  her  own  babe  in  a  time  of 
famine  and  siege.  I  have  talked  with  more 
than  one  man  to  whom  the  face  of  that  mother 
has  been  an  abiding  impression  for  years  after 
the  visit  to  the  Wiertz  pictures,  so  horrible  is 
it,  so  revolting.  It  is  the  face  of  one  who  has 
fallen  out  of  the  hands  of  the  living  God !  What 
shall  we  say  of  shameful  and  nameless  outrages 
committed  by  dehumanised  men  from  time  to 
time,  of  crimes  of  ferocity  and  blood  and  wick- 
edness unnamable.''  What  shall  we  say  of  men 
so  mutilated,  their  higher  instincts  apparently 
torn  up  by  the  roots,  their  godlike  faculties, 
their  human  faculties  even,  destroyed,  and  all 
that  remains  bestial — what  shall  we  say  of  them 
but  that  they  give  us  a  view  of  what  man  would 
be  if  that  fearful  thing  had  happened,  if  he  had 
fallen  out  of  the  hands  of  the  living  God.''  Con- 
ceive the  wretchedness  of  that  soul  which  believes 
in  its  distrustful  madness  that  it  has  fallen  out 
of  His  hands !  Hear  him — it  is  poor  Cowper  who 
is  speaking,  writhing  under  the  horror  of  the 
curse  which  has  fallen: 

Damn'd  below  Judas;  more  abhorr'd  than  he  was. 
Who  for  a  few  pence  sold  his  holy  Master! 
Twice  betray'd,  Jesus  me,  the  last  delinquent. 
Deems  the  profanest. 


178  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

Man  disavows,  and  Deity  disowns  me, 
Hell  might  afford  my  miseries  a  shelter; 
Therefore,  hell  keeps  her  ever-hungry  mouths  all 
Bolted  against  me. 

Conceive  of  this  man  going  down  to  the  docks 
to  drown  himself,  convinced  that  this  was  his 
state  for  ever,  prevented  by  the  presence  of  some 
unusual  crowd,  then  the  light  of  reason  returning, 
and  the  assurance  given  that  he  was  still  in  the 
hands  of  the  living  God,  and  writing: 

God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way, 

His  wonders  to  perform: 
He  plants  His  footsteps  in  the  sea, 

And  rides  upon  the  storm! 

And  dare  we  enter  into  the  very  Holy  of  Holies, 
look  with  sobered  gaze  upon  the  "  Strong  Son 
of  God,  immortal  Love,"  prostrate  upon  the  cold 
ground  at  the  foot  of  those  gnarled  old  olive 
trees,  the  interrupted  moonlight  through  the 
foliage  glancing  upon  Him  as  He  sweats,  as  it 
were,  in  His  agony,  great  drops  of  blood?  Can 
we  follow  Him  along  the  path  of  sorrows  to 
Gethsemane,  and  enter,  by  reverent  and  tenderest 
sympathy,  into  something  of  the  horror  of  great 
darkness  which  fell,  not  only  upon  the  sacred 
city,  but  upon  the  soul  of  Christ,  and  feel  in 
part  what  must  have  been  the  anguish  of  our 
Lord  when  it  seemed  to  Him  that  He  had  fallen 
out  of  the  hands  of  the  living  God,  and  He  cried 
with  a  loud  voice,  "  My  God,  My  God,  why 
hast  Thou  forsaken  Me?"  Yet  this  was  for 
a  moment.    And  His  last  words  have  been  spoken 


THE    HANDS    OF    THE    LIVING    GOD     179 

by  the  dying  lips  of  myriads  of  His  follow- 
ers :  "  Father,  into  Thine  hands  I  commend  My 
spirit." 

We  are  in  the  hands  of  the  living  God.  We 
cannot  fall  out  of  them ;  in  that  assurance  is 
our  strength  for  ever.  The  strongest  of  us  have 
known,  or  will  know,  hours  of  weakness  in  which 
our  power  is  utter  feebleness,  when  we  need,  must 
have,  cannot  live  without,  a  greater  than  our- 
selves to  lean  upon.  The  most  deeply  spir- 
itual have  known  times  when  all  our  lower  self 
was  in  arms  against  our  nobler  impulses,  when 
the  flesh  made  hateful  war  upon  the  spirit, 
when  the  good  that  we  would  we  could  not  do, 
and  the  evil  that  we  would  not  we  were  compelled 
to  do,  and  our  highest  self  seemed  swept  away  in 
a  flood  of  evil  passions.  The  most  trustful  have 
known  times  when  we  have  felt  that  there  was 
no  humanity  to  pity  and  no  Deity  to  care;  that 
man  stood  but  as  "  the  cunningest  of  Nature's 
clocks,"  and  God  a  "  hypothesis "  for  which 
there  was  no  need.  The  most  beneficent  and 
philanthropic  have  felt  wearied  by  their  fellow- 
men,  have  been  ready  to  confess  the  futility  of 
eff^ort,  the  folly  of  that  bad  dream  called  faith, 
and  the  worthlessness  of  the  human  race.  We 
have  needed,  or  we  shall  need  at  times  like  these, 
to  pray  in  spirit  and  in  truth  the  earnest  prayer: 

Be  near  me  when  my  light  is  low, 
When  the  blood  creeps,  and  the  nerves  prick 
And  tingle;  and  the  heart  is  sick, 

And  all  the  wheels  of  Being  slow. 


180     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

Be  near  me  when  the  sensuous  frame 
Is  racked  with  pangs  that  conquer  trust; 
And  Time,  a  maniac  scattering  dust, 

And  Life,  a  Fury  slinging  flame. 

Be  near  me  when  my  faith  is  dry. 
And  when  the  flies  of  latter  spring, 
That  lay  their  eggs,  and  sting  and  sing, 

And  weave  their  petty  cells  and  die. 

Be  near  me  when  I  fade  away. 

To  point  the  term  of  human  strife, 

And  on  the  low,  dark  verge  of  life 
The  twilight  of  eternal  day. 

And  then  we  have  been,  and  we  still  shall  be, 
devoutly  thankful  for  the  certainty  that  the 
Eternal  God  is  our  dwelling-place,  and  that  we 
cannot  fall  out  of  the  everlasting  arms  that  are 
underneath.  It  is  in  the  inspiration  of  this 
deathless  truth  that  all  strength  and  virtue  lies. 
We  are  in  the  hands  of  the  living  God — cannot 
fall  out  of  them !  What  vividness  of  insight, 
what  earnestness  of  effort,  what  force  of  will  Is 
in  the  promise !  "  Man  never  mounts  so  high," 
as  Cromwell  felt,  "  as  when  he  knows  not  whither 
he  Is  going " — ^but  trusts  himself  to  God.  He 
mounts,  he  knows  not  how ;  but  the  clouds  turn 
to  solid  rock  beneath  his  feet,  and  his  hand  is 
grasped  by  the  strong  hand  of  his  Father,  God. 
His  life  has  been  so  ordered,  is  so  planned.  For 
this  purpose  came  he  into  this  world — to  do  his 
Father's  will.  The  vastness  of  the  evils  to  be 
attacked  does  not  appal  him — God  Is  not  dead! 
The  weaknesses  of  those  who  have  fought  by 
his   side   and   fallen   In   the  fight — nay,   his   own 


THE    HANDS    OF    THE    LIVING    GOD     181 

exceeding  frailty  at  the  moment  of  keenest  trial, 
do  not  destroy  his  faith;  out  of  the  depths  of 
despair  he  is  lifted  up  by  the  hands  of  God.  Evil, 
he  sees,  through  all  the  ages  reincarnates  itself, 
is  routed  and  overthrown  and  driven  out  of 
national  life  and  human  character  in  one  mani- 
festation, to  appear  again  in  other  forms  and  in 
successive  generations.  But  each  fresh  incarna- 
tion, he  sees  by  the  eye  of  faith  which  alone 
sees  right,  is  weaker  than  the  last;  and  he  is 
very  sure  that  Christ  will  reign  till  He  has  put 
all  evil  forces  and  tendencies  under  His  feet  and 
is  truly  All  in  All.  Death  threatens,  and  his 
dearest  pass  through  the  valley  and  the  shadow; 
but  the  promise  of  a  time  when  he  shall  clasp  the 
hand  that  has  failed  him  here,  and  look  into 
eyes  that  shall  no  more  grow  dim,  sounds  above 
his  sorrow,  and  he  knows  that,  living  or  dead,  his 
loved  ones  are  in  the  hands  of  the  living  God. 
And  for  himself,  he  scorns  to  live  under  a  threat 
or  a  fear ;  death  does  but  mean  for  him  a  broaden- 
ing vision  of  the  life  Divine.  In  a  universe  of 
change  one  thing  is  fixed — the  love  of  God  for 
him ;  and  in  all  this  universe  of  starry  splendours 
and  unfathomable  depths  and  unthinkable  im- 
mensities he  cannot  fall  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
living  God! 


XI 

THUNDER   AND   THE   ANGEL 


Every  matter  hath  two  handles — by  the  one  it  may  be 
carried;  by  the  other,  not.  If  thy  brother  do  thee  wrong, 
take  not  this  thing  by  the  handle,  He  wrongs  me;  for  that 
is  the  handle  whereby  it  may  not  be  carried.  But  take  it 
rather  by  the  handle.  He  is  my  brother,  nourished  with  me; 
and  thou  wilt  take  it  by  a  handle  whereby  it  may  be  carried. 

— Epictetus. 


XI 

THUNDER    AND    THE    ANGEL 

"  The  multitude  therefore,  that  stood  by,  and  heard  it, 
said  that  it  had  thundered:  others  said,  An  angel  hath 
spoken  to  Him."— John  xi.  29, 

Some  said  that  it  thundered.  Others  said  an 
angel  spoke.  But  suppose  it  did  thunder:  is  that 
any  reason  why  we  should  not  also  say  that  an 
angel  spoke? 

Herbert  Spencer  once  wrote  that  "Evolution 
is  a  change  from  an  indefinite  coherent  heteroge- 
neity to  a  definite  coherent  heterogeneity  through 
continuous  differentiations  and  integrations." 
And  a  writer  in  The  Contemporary  Review  ob- 
served that  "  the  universe  may  well  have  heaved 
a  sigh  of  relief  when,  through  the  cerebration 
of  an  eminent  thinker,  It  had  been  delivered  of 
this  account  of  itself."  The  Bible  says,  "In 
the  beginning  God  created  the  heaven  and  the 
earth.  And  the  earth  was  waste  and  void;  and 
darkness  was  upon  the  face  of  the  deep:  and 
the  spirit  of  God  moved  upon  the  face  of  the 
waters."  Well,  now,  let  us  assume  that  evolu- 
tion is  the  change  from  an  indefinite  coherent 
— and  all  the  rest  of  it:  what  is  there  in  that 
to  prevent  us  saying,  "  In  the  beginning,  God"? 
Herbert  Spencer  has  tried  to  define  life  for  us. 
185 


186  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

He  says  that  life  is  "the  continuous  adjustment 
of  internal  relations  to  external  relations."  Let 
us  admit  it ;  but  where  is  the  reason  in  that  defini- 
tion for  our  refusing  to  say,  "  And  this  is  life 
eternal,  to  know  Thee,  the  only  true  God,  and 
Jesus  Christ  whom  Thou  hast  sent "  ?  Time 
was  when  man  saw  arbitrary  interferences  of 
deities  in  every  wind  that  stirred  the  forest 
trees,  in  every  fleecy  cloud  that  dimmed  the 
azure  blue,  in  morning's  radiant  flush,  and  in  the 
stars  that  break  up  the  night  and  make  it  beau- 
tiful. We  can  account  to  you  precisely  for  the 
wind.  The  clouds  are  no  difficulty  to  us.  As 
for  the  stars,  we  weigh  them  and  measure  them, 
tell  their  places  and  their  relations  to  each  other, 
point  out  in  advance  where  they  must  be  at  any 
moment  of  time  a  hundred  years  hence,  and  man's 
intellectual  lordship  we  plant  above  the  Milky 
Way.  This  is  all  clear  gain — or  it  may  be. 
But  it  is  not  gain,  it  is  exceeding  great  and 
perilous  loss,  if  because  we  know  that  it  thunders 
we  cannot  also  hear  that  an  angel  speaks,  if  be- 
yond and  behind  and  above  all  visible  phenomena 
we  cannot  find  an  eternal  Mind  and  an  everlasting 
Love.  In  this  day  of  an  aggressive  atheism  we, 
who  believe  in  God  and  in  the  Incarnation  of 
His  Son,  in  the  resurrection  and  immortality, 
cannot  too  often  remind  you  that  science,  by  the 
mouthpiece  of  her  chosen  prophets,  has  proclaimed 
that  she  is  and  must  be  silent  as  to  the  cause  and 
origin  of  the  phenomena  which  she  catalogues  and 
describes.     In  his  day,  Darwin  drew  back  from 


THUNDER    AND    THE    ANGEL  187 

the  very  contemplation  of  the  problems  presented 
by  the  existence  of  mind.  "  I  have  nothing  to 
do  with  the  origin  of  the  mental  powers,  any 
more  than  I  have  to  do  with  the  origin  of  life 
itself."  "  I  know  nothing,  and  I  never  hope  to 
Know  anything,"  says  Huxley,  "  of  the  steps  by 
which  the  passage  from  molecular  movement  to 
states  of  consciousness  is  effected " — in  other 
words,  as  to  how  life  comes  to  man  or  brute. 
The  cause  of  all  remains  uncatalogued,  un- 
accounted for.  Let  science  push  her  investiga- 
tions to  the  very  uttermost;  let  her  wisest  serv- 
ants tell  us  all  they  have  learned  of  her  secrets ; 
we  will  listen,  will  praise  them  and  be  grateful 
to  them,  and  bid  them  still  further  search  the 
universe;  and  when  their  thoughts  have  pierced 
to  what  is  for  them  creation's  farthest  bounds, 
we  shall  hear  them  confess  that  there  is  room  for 
this  First  Great  Cause  whom  we  call  God,  whom 
Jesus  has  bidden  us  call  Father,  to  whom  ascends 
the  feeblest  prayer  of  dawning  faith  and  the 
mighty  cry  of  the  hero's  heart. 

To  be  sure,  it  thundered.  Be  far  more  sure 
that  an  angel  spoke! 

These  considerations  go  very  deep  into  the 
speech  of  God  to  human  hearts.  There  are  men 
and  women  to  whom  the  old  Nature-adoration 
of  ages  and  races  that  have  passed,  and  the 
modem  realisation  of  God  through  the  ministries 
of  Nature,  are  as  meaningless  as  a  speech  de- 
livered in  Choctaw  or  Chinese.  They  can  no  more 
understand  my  feelings,  as  I  roam  over  the  miles 


188     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

of  golden  sands  that  stretch  from  my  door, 
with  all  the  winds  of  heaven  playing  upon  my 
soul,  and  the  Atlantic  rollers,  which  have  swept 
on  resistlessly  over  three  times  a  thousand 
miles,  breaking  in  tiny  trivial  wavelets  at  my 
feet,  than  they  could  express  the  terms  of  the 
differential  calculus  in  the  language  of  Homer  or 
of  Isaiah.  I  have  often  tried  to  describe  to 
you — though  never  with  any  satisfaction  to 
myself — the  view  which  day  by  day  for  twelve 
months  spread  before  our  eyes  as  we  "  made  the 
cure "  at  the  Schatzalp  sanatorium  in  Switzer- 
land. One  day,  a  certain  person  came  to  my 
room,  bubbling  over  with  laughter.  Walking  on 
the  mountain-slopes,  two  ladies  had  asked  her  if 
she  could  speak  English,  and  when  she  confessed 
that  she  could,  said  to  her,  "  Will  you  please  tell 
us  where  is  the  view.^  "  Naturally,  in  her  sur- 
prise, she  demanded,  "What  view?"  It  was  a 
glorious  day  late  in  summer,  and  a  touch  of 
frost  was  in.  the  air,  while  the  summer  sun  flooded 
the  world  with  splendour.  Autumn's  hand  was 
,early  on  the  hills  and  forests.  A  thousand  feet 
below  us  the  valley  smiled  in  its  yet  living  green; 
higher,  the  yellows  and  the  browns  chased  each 
other  through  the  pine  forests ;  higher  still, 
the  mountain  sides  burst  into  a  blaze  of  red  and 
a  purple  glory.  In  the  vast  distance  the  solemn 
snow-peaks  of  the  Tinzenhorn  and  the  Piz  Aela 
towered  into  immensity.  And  these  ladies  wanted 
someone  to  point  out  to  them  the  "  view."     They 


THUNDER    AND    THE    ANGEL  189 

said  that  they  had  been  told  that  if  they  came 
up  to  our  Sanatorium  by  the  Funicular  they 
would  see  it !  I  wished  I  had  been  so  fortunate 
as  to  meet  the  people  who  had  come  to  see  without 
bringing  eyes  with  them.  I  should  have  said, 
"  There  is  no  view  here.  There  never  has  been 
any  view  here.  There  never  will  be  any  view  here 
— for  you !  There  is  a  view  in  Bold  Street,  and 
in  Regent  Street,  and  in  Broadway,  and  in  the 
Rue  de  la  Paix ;  but  there  is  no  view  here.  The 
eye  only  sees  what  it  brings  with  it  the  power  of 
seeing." 

One  of  the  happiest  evenings  I  have  spent  in 
my  life  was  passed  in  company  with  Stanley,  the 
explorer.  There  were  only  six  of  us  that  night, 
and  three  are  now  dead.  And  as  we  talked,  or, 
rather,  listened  to  Stanley  talk,  one  of  us  quoted 
a  flippant  comment  on  the  greatest  of  his  journeys 
which  had  appeared  in  Mr.  Labouchere's  Truth. 
"  Mr.  Stanley  has  found  a  mountain  and  a  lake. 
A  mountain  is  an  elevation  and  a  lake  is  a 
depression.  So  the  one  cancels  the  other  out." 
And  that  was  the  result  of  Stanley's  journey — 
according  to  this  stupid  paragrapher.  And 
Stanley  was  silent  for  a  minute  or  two ;  and  a 
shadow  crossed  his  face;  and,  before  his  eyes 
half-closed  in  reverie,  it  seemed  to  me  that  I 
could  see  Africa  there,  and  he  saw  himself  once 
more  plunging  out  of  the  light  into  the  darkness, 
not  knowing  whether  he  would  find  his  way  to 
the  light  beyond,   or  whether  his  name  and  his 


190  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

fame  and  his  life  would  be  lost  in  the  ever- 
during  dark.  He  saw,  or  I  thought  he  saw,  that 
marvellous  journey  when  they  all  faced  a  thou- 
sand deaths  every  hour,  and — he  had  found  an 
elevation  and  a  depression,  and  one  had  cancelled 
the  other  out,  and  that  was  all! 

To  men  and  women  like  these,  sand  is  sand, 
hills  are  hills — or  elevations ;  lakes  are  lakes — 
or  depressions ;  rivers  are  drainage ;  mountains 
are  heaps  of  land  piled  up  rather  awkwardly ; 
snow  looks  horribly  cold;  a  yellow  primrose  is  a 
yellow  primrose,  and  you  didn't  expect  it  to  be 
blue!  What  is  there  so  wonderful  in  all  that? 
Nothing,  my  dear  sir,  just  nothing  at  all — if 
you  have  starved  your  soul.  But  poetry  and 
philosophy  and  music,  the  history  of  man  and 
the  life  of  God — if  you  are  ready  to  hear  the  angel 
speak. 

This  is  the  Hebrew  sense  of  God,  or,  at  least, 
it  is  the  sense  of  God  which  the  finest  minds  of 
the  Hebrew  race  have  had.  This  is  the  sense  of 
the  Real  presence  which  the  most  spiritual  of  the 
sons  of  men  are  for  ever  seeking  to  express  in 
deathless  song.    Listen  to  one  of  the  ancient  day: 

The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God; 

And  the  firmament  showeth  His  handywork. 

Day  unto  day  uttereth  speech. 

And  night  unto  night  showeth  knowledge. 

There  is  no  speech  nor  language; 

Their  voice  cannot  be  heard. 

Their  line  is  gone  out  through  all  the  earth, 

And  their  words  to  the  end  of  the  world. 


THUNDER    AND    THE    ANGEL  191 

Listen  to  one  of  our  own  race: 

...     I  have  felt 
A  presence  that  disturbs  me  with  the  joy 
Of  elevated  thoughts;  a  sense  sublime 
Of  something  far  more  deeply  interfused, 
Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns, 
And  the  round  ocean  and  the  living  air, 
And  the  blue  sky  and  in  the  mind  of  man. 

And  if  you  say  that  this  is  still  quite  beyond 
you,  that  you  really  do  not  know  what  it  all 
amounts  to,  try  to  understand  it.  Give  your 
soul  a  chance.  "  I  know  that  father  will  not 
go  to  heaven,"  a  little  girl  said ;  "  he  will 
never  be  able  to  leave  the  shop."  Leave  the 
shop  sometimes,  and  the  office  and  the  factory 
and  the  dock  and  the  exchange,  and  the  drudgery 
of  household  duties  and  the  rush  of  the  crowded 
city.  "  Come  ye  out  into  the  plain,  and  I  will 
talk  with  you  there,"  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts. 
"  Come  ye  by  yourselves  apart,  and  rest  awhile," 
says  the  Good  Physician  to  our  souls.  Come,  and 
hear  the  angel  speak. 

Now,  if  I  have  made  plain  to  you  what  this 
text  means  to  me,  you  will  see  that  we  can  allow 
our  thoughts  to  wander  over  an  almost  infinitely 
wide  tract  of  human  experience,  and  everywhere 
find  some  who  say  that  it  thunders  while  others 
say  an  angel  speaks. 

One  man  opens  his  eyes  to  the  wonderful  story 
of  the  past.  Myth,  rite,  and  creed  pass  before 
his  vision  as  the  ages  are  led  captive  before  him. 


192     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

Myth,  wild  and  fanciful,  crude  ritual,  savage 
creed,  speak  to  him  only  of  the  aberrations  of 
the  ignorant,  the  undeveloped,  the  superstitious, 
and  the  cruel  mind.  And  in  them  all  he  sees 
the  denial  of  God.  Primitive  man  saw  the  sun 
set,  and  it  rose  again ;  and  so  he  came  to  the  idea 
of  a  resurrection  after  death.  He  was  lonely  and 
frightened  in  the  dark,  and  saw  ghosts,  and  so 
conceived  the  idea  of  immortality,  et  cetera. 
And  this  rules  God  out  of  His  own  universe,  we 
are  told.  Let  me  give  you  an  illustration.  Mr. 
Blatchford  tells  us  that  no  man  should  consider 
the  question  of  religion  decided  for  him  until  he 
has  read  Dr.  Fraser's  "  Golden  Bough."  Yet 
there  is  nothing  in  that  book  which  remotely 
touches  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ!  It  does 
not  touch  the  thing,  the  matter,  of  Christianity 
at  all.  Such  a  remark  in  its  absurd  irrelevance, 
its  utter  absence  of  reasonable  connection  with 
the  point  in  view,  reminds  one  of  nothing  in  the 
world  so  much  as  of  the  exercises  in  the  old 
French  lesson-books :  "  Has  the  gardener's  little 
boy  any  bread.''  No;  but  his  sister  is  very  tall." 
For  the  "  Golden  Bough  "  in  its  crowded  volumes, 
often  fascinating  and  sometimes  bewildering, 
brings  before  you  thousands  of  illustrations, 
simple,  foolish,  tremendous,  horrible;  illustra- 
tions of  every  conceivable  and  inconceivable 
character,  of  the  quaint  and  amazing  customs 
which  have  grown  up  round  primitive  man's 
conception  of  "  worship."  And  Dr.  Moulton, 
who  has  probably  given  to  the  study  of  rehgion 


THUNDER    AND    THE    ANGEL  193 

and  of  liistory  more  years  than  Mr.  Blatchford 
has  given  days,  puts  the  matter  with  sufficient 
clearness.  "  Let  every  one  of  Dr.  Eraser's  facts 
and  every  one  of  his  conclusions  be  admitted,"  he 
says,  in  effect,  "  and  the  religion  of  Christ  is 
absolutely  untouched." 

To  us  it  seems  that,  when  the  most  that  is 
claimed  is  proved — the  most,  not  the  least — we 
have  only  been  supplied  with  fresh  illustrations 
of  man's  earliest  searches  after  God,  of  the  reach- 
ing out  of  the  human  soul  toward  the  Infinite,  of 
the  indestructible  craving  for  a  Higher  than  our- 
selves. And  we  have  found  fresh  reason  to  de- 
clare with  Whittier: 

All  souls  that  struggle  and  aspire, 
All  hearts  of  prayer,  by  Thee  are  lit; 

And,  dim  or  clear.  Thy  tongues  of  fire 
On  dusky  tribes  and  centuries  sit. 

It  is  the  same  with  Bible  story  and  with  the 
story  of  the  Church.  One  hears  it  thunder. 
Another  says  that  an  angel  speaks.  There  is  a 
passage  in  Newman  Smyth's  "  Old  Faiths  in 
New  Light,"  a  book  written  twenty  years  ago, 
so  complete  and  so  completely  applicable  to 
Bome  present  controversies  that  it  might  have 
appeared  yesterday :  "  Popular  Infidelity,  too, 
has  its  arrant  demagogues — lecturers  who  carry 
on  a  notorious  business  of  atheism  on  a  small 
capital  of  philosophic  thought,  and  usually  bor- 
rowed capital  besides.  Thus  a  man  of  fluent  wit 
will  go  up  and  down  through  the  Bible,  or  ec- 


194     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

clesiastlcal  history,  very  much  as  a  political  stump- 
speaker  will  look  through  the  Parliamentary 
records,  or  our  national  history,  for  the  points 
of  his  partisan  speech.  He  will  begin  with  Genesis 
and  find  '  mistakes  of  Moses  '  in  abundance.  He 
will  expatiate  upon  the  absurdities  of  the  story  of 
the  Ark.  He  will  pause  in  dramatic  horror  before 
the  cruel  wars  of  the  Jews.  He  will  single  out  an 
imprecatory  Psalm  or  two ;  and  when  he  comes 
to  the  New  Testament  he  will  find  in  it  discrepan- 
cies and  misstatements  enough  to  prove  that  all 
the  apostles  were  little  better  than  literary  thieves 
and  robbers.  Then  he  will  run  up  and  down 
through  the  Christian  ages,  beholding  every  rack 
and  thumbscrew,  but  regardless  of  the  many  mar- 
tyrs; putting  his  finger  on  the  dark  stains,  but 
not  noticing  the  illuminated  pages  of  ecclesiastical 
history ;  complaining  of  the  gloom  of  the  scho- 
lastic theology,  but  blind  to  the  growing  light. 
He  will  have  at  his  tongue's  end  second-hand 
and  unverified  quotations  from  the  Calvinists 
.  .  .  and  so  on  to  the  end  of  the  chapter."  Yes ; 
but  to  one  who  has  opened  his  ear  and  his  heart 
to  hear  the  angel  speak,  the  Bible  is  the  Book  of 
Righteousness,  the  Book  of  Love,  the  Book  of 
Life,  the  Book  of  God.  He,  a  grown  man,  has 
not  gone  to  it  to  grin  at  its  "  absurdities  "  and 
chuckle  over  its  "  indecencies."  And  he  has  found 
in  it  strength  for  his  weakness,  consolation  in 
sorrow,  and  inspiration  in  despair.  The  literature 
of  the  world  is  as  open  to  his  search  as  to  the 
"  demagogue "  of  Newman  Smyth's   illustration, 


THUNDER    AND    THE    ANGEL  195 

and  he  listens  for  the  angel's  voice  in  every  truth- 
ful speech  of  man.  Yet  in  the  deepest  hours  of 
his  life  it  is  his  Bible  that  he  opens,  and  the  sim- 
plest of  human  phrases  most  adequately  expresses 
the  conviction  of  his  soul : 

Jesus,  Thou  joy  of  loving  hearts, 
Thou  fount  of  life,  Thou  light  of  men, 

From  the  best  bliss  that  earth  imparts 
We  turn  unfilled  to  Thee  again. 

I  repeat  that  we  might  wander  over  the  very 
widest  fields  of  human  experience,  and  we  should 
find  all  this  true.  You  may  simply  say  that  it 
thunders,  or  you  may  hear  the  angel  speak.  For, 
indeed,  it  is  the  whole  tone  and  temper  and  spirit 
of  the  life  which  are  in  question.  How  shall  we 
take  life,  on  its  material  or  on  its  spiritual  side.'' 
Shall  we  walk  by  the  flesh  or  by  the  spirit?  Is  it 
thunder  or  an  angel  that  speaks  to  you  day  by 
day? 

You  can  look  on  the  sordid  side  of  your  own 
work,  on  the  labour  of  men,  on  the  commerce  of 
the  nations.  You  can  see  in  work  only  drudgery, 
drudgery  most  undivine;  in  labour,  only  oppres- 
sion ;  in  commerce,  organised  plunder.  Or  you 
can  see  a  real  dignity,  not  a  sham  one,  in  your 
work,  and  find  a  sustaining  joy  in  it.  All  work 
well  done  brings  happiness  to  somebody.  A  man 
who  makes  a  pair  of  boots  which  are  comfortable 
to  wear  has  done  a  piece  of  work  which  has 
added  to  the  pleasure  of  living.  A  man  who 
makes  a  chair  easy  to  sit  in  has  made  somebody 


196     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD    " 

happy.  A  man  who  papers  a  wall  so  that  it  Is 
restful  to  the  eye  and  soothing  to  the  mind  has 
left  a  blessing  behind  him.  A  man  who  builds  a 
house  which  a  woman  can  turn  into  a  home  and 
love  into  a  heaven  is  a  benefactor  of  the  race.  A 
woman  cannot  cook  a  dinner  well  or  order  her 
house  aright  without  joining  herself  to  all  the 
world's  sources  of  well-being;  while,  I  am  gravely 
assured,  the  girl  who  has  made  a  hat  which  is 
*'  becoming  "  or  a  gown  which  "  fits  "  properly 
has  conferred  upon  some  happy  woman  a  sense  of 
satisfaction  which  is  only  less  than  the  assurance 
of  immortality.  And  so  with  the  great  and  wide 
enterprises  of  commerce.  I  would  have  you  think 
of  commerce  as  a  great  and  sacred  thing,  bring- 
ing the  nations  into  fellowship,  uniting  man  to 
man,  and  deepening  in  every  clime  the  idea  of 
the  solidarity  of  mankind. 

Life,  with  all  its  vicissitudes  and  trials,  with  its 
adversity  and  prosperity,  you  may  take  "  high  " 
or  "  low."  You  may  take  it  so  as  merely  to  hear 
thunder.  You  may  listen  and  hear  the  angel 
speak.  Does  adversity  ennoble  or  embitter.-'  Does 
prosperity  make  cruel  or  kind.''  I  was  brought 
up  to  believe  that  adversity  was  the  school  of 
saints  and  heroes,  that  prosperity  brought  pride, 
insolence,  and  selfishness.  I  have  lived  to  be  told 
that  prosperity  is  good  for  people;  that  we  grow 
nicer  and  kinder  and  really  more  sweet-natured 
as  things  go  well  with  us ;  and  that  it  is  the  pres- 
sure of  poverty,  sorrow,  and  loss  which  crushes  the 
kindlier  feelings  of  our  souls.     Which  is  true-f* 


THUNDER    AND    THE    ANGEL  197 

Both!  Prosperity  may  ennoble;  prosperity 
may  degrade.  Adversity  may  sweeten ;  adversity 
may  poison.  There  is  no  rule  except  this ;  all 
depends  upon  the  spirit  of  which  you  are.  So 
we  come  back  to  that.  We  are  spirit:  will  you  take 
life  on  its  spiritual  side,  live  as  a  spiritual  being, 
expect  spiritual  results  from  all  the  events  and 
facts  and  forces  which  you  work  up  into  the  won- 
derful thing  we  call  experience?  Prosperity  finds 
you ;  and  you  may  wrap  yourself  round  in  pride, 
in  disdain  of  the  world's  need  of  help  and  pity. 
Prosperity  may  come  to  you,  and  you  may  long 
with  great  longing  to  shed  abroad  the  happiness 
which  has  found  you.  Adversity  may  strike  you, 
and  though  you  reel  under  the  blow  you  may  rise 
to  a  height  of  sympathy  and  tenderness  and  help- 
fulness to  which  you  never  rose  before.  Or — God 
help  us  all! — we  may  snap  and  snarl  and  bite,  like 
a  trapped  and  wounded  beast,  while  the  sorrow 
spreads  like  some  deadly  virus  through  our  veins. 
How  is  it  with  you,  brother.''  What  spirit  are  you 
of.''    Do  you  hear  thunder  or  the  angel  now.'' 

I  shall  be  told  that  there  is  no  way  of  laying 
violent  hands  upon  ourselves  and  forcing  ear  and 
heart  open  to  the  angel  voices  while  the  world  goes 
thundering  past.  No;  but  it  is,  at  least,  some- 
thing to  recognise  that  there  are  such  possibilities 
of  higher  and  lower  in  every  event  and  in  every 
hour.  We  are  not  forced  to  grovel.  If  we  have 
not  wings  and  cannot  soar,  at  least  we  can  climb 
out  of  the  horrible  pit  and  the  miry  clay.  That  is 
something.     But  there  is  more.     We  may,  at  the 


198  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

very  least,  give  a  thought  to  the  certain  issues  of 
our  present  life  in  the  years  that  are  to  come. 
Nature  never  stands  still,  nor  souls  either.  They 
either  go  up  or  go  down.  And  watch  the  man 
who  is  "  going  down."  He  develops  cynicism,  he 
is  contemptuous  of  "  fine-spun  sentimentalities," 
he  is  bitter  toward  the  visions  of  high  minds.  Or 
he  grows  cold,  hard,  selfish.  His  soul  shrinks  and 
shrivels  within  him.  What  sort  of  an  old  age  are 
we  preparing  for  ourselves,  if  we  live  within  our- 
selves and  for  ourselves  alone?  You  are  not  get- 
ting any  younger.  Old  age  will  come.  We  may 
grow  twenty  years  older  in  twelve  months.  Ma- 
terialism needs  httle  encouragement  in  our  day. 
It  quickly  seizes  us.  It  grips  us  hard.  It  holds 
us  tight.  The  selfishness  of  our  youth  and  the 
coldness  and  meanness  of  middle  age  will  be  damn- 
ing and  damnable  when  age  has  stiffened  every 
instinct  into  permanence. 

There  walks  Judas,  he  who  sold 
Yesterday  his  Lord  for  gold. 
Sold  God's  presence  in  his  heart 
For  a  proud  step  in  the  mart; 
He  hath  dealt  in  flesh  and  blood; 
At  the  bank  his  name  is  good; 
At  the  bank,  and  only  there, 
'Tis  a  marketable  ware. 
In  his  eyes  that  stealthy  gleam 
Was  not  learned  of  sky  or  stream. 
But  it  has  the  cold,  hard  glint 
Of  new  dollars  from  the  mint. 
Open  now  your  spirit's  eyes, 
Look  through  that  poor  clay  disguise 
Which  has  thickened  day  by  day. 
Till  it  keeps  all  light  at  bay, 


THUNDER    AND    THE    ANGEL  199 

And  his  soul  in  pitchy  gloom 
Gropes  about  its  narrow  tomb, 
From  whose  dark  and  slimy  walls 
Drop  by  drop  the  horror  falls. 

And  yet  I  would  not  say  one  word  which  should 
lead  anyone,  though  white  his  hair  with  the  snows 
of  many  winters,  and  heavy  his  soul  with  the 
weight  of  many  years,  to  dream  that  for  him  it  is 
too  late  to  turn  and  follow  the  High  God  in  his 
heart.  In  the  exquisite  message  which  the  Spirit 
spoke  to  the  Church  of  Ephesus,  they  who  were 
so  warmly  praised  for  splendid  toil  and  service, 
yet  who  stood  reproved  because  in  the  conflict 
they  had  lost  something  of  their  first  love,  were 
warned  to  turn  again  and  do  the  old  things  once 
more.  Remember !  Repent !  Return !  Remember 
from  whence  thou  art  fallen — the  heights  and  the 
raptures,  the  devotion  and  passion,  of  the  years 
that  are  fled.  Repent — of  the  coldness  which  has 
crept  over  your  soul,  of  the  man  you  are  compared 
with,  the  man  you  were  and  the  man  you  meant  to 
be.  Return — to  the  old  deeds,  the  old  service,  the 
old  thoughts  and  feelings ;  to  your  Bible  and  your 
secret  prayer  and  your  daily  communion  with  the 
Highest;  to  God,  whose  arm  is  not  shortened, 
whose  ear  is  not  stopped;  to  Christ,  who  is  the 
same  yesterday,  and  to-day,  and  for  ever.  "  Bring 
ye  now  the  whole  tithe  into  the  storehouse,  that 
there  may  be  meat  in  mine  house,  and  prove  me 
now  herewith,  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  if  I  will 
not  open  you  the  windows  of  heaven  and  pour  you 
out  a  blessing,  that  there  shall  not  be  room  enough 
to  receive  it." 


XII 

THE    THREE    JOHNS    IN    JOHN: 
THE   THREE    THOMASES   IN   THOMAS 


God  be  thanked,  the  meanest  of  His  creatures 
Boasts  two  soul-sides,  one  to  face  the  world  with, 
One  to  show  a  woman  when  he  loves  her! 

ROBEET    BeOWNIKO. 


XII 

THE   THREE   JOHNS   IN   JOHN: 
THE   THREE    THOMASES   IN   THOMAS 

"  For  now  we  see  through  a  mirror,  darkly;  but  then  face 

to   face." — I.  COEINTHIANS  XIII.   12. 

"  It  is  not  easy,  at  the  best,  for  two  persons  talk- 
ing together  to  make  the  most  of  each  other's 
thoughts,  there  are  so  many  of  them." 

This  was  a  remark  made  by  the  Autocrat  of  the 
Breakfast  Table  to  the  assembled  guests.  And 
the  company  looked  as  if  they  wanted  an  explana- 
tion.    So  the  Autocrat  went  on : 

"  When  John  and  Thomas,  for  instance,  are 
talking  together,  it  is  natural  that  among  the  six 
there  should  be  more  or  less  confusion  and  mis- 
apprehension." 

The  people  thought  that  the  Autocrat  had  sud- 
denly gone  mad.  The  landlady  turned  pale. 
The  old  gentleman  opposite  thought  that  the 
Autocrat  might  seize  the  carving  knife.  But  he 
proceeded  to  explain  that  at  the  fewest  six  per- 
sonalities are  distinctly  to  be  recognised  as  taking 
part  in  the  dialogue  between  John  and  Thomas. 
There  is  (1)  the  real  John,  known  only  to  his 
Maker;  (2)  John's  ideal  John,  never  the  real  one, 
and  often  very  unlike  him;  (3)  Thomas's  ideal 
John,  never  the  real  John,  nor  John's  John;  but 

203 


204     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

often  very  unlike  either.  In  precisely  the  same 
way  there  are  three  Thomases.  There  is  Thomas 
as  he  really  is,  as  God  sees  him ;  Thomas  as  he 
thinks  he  is ;  and  Thomas  as  John  thinks  he  is.  In 
all,  there  are  six  people.  No  wonder  two  dis- 
putants often  get  angry  when  there  are  six  of 
them  talking  and  listening  at  the  same  time! 

This  is  expressed  with  the  inimitable  playful- 
ness of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  but  it  is  charged 
with  deep  wisdom  and  true  religion.  I  understand 
it  as  a  commentary  on  my  text,  "  Now  we  see 
through  a  mirror,  darkly." 

This  text  has  been  thought  to  point  a  contrast 
between  our  ignorance  here  and  our  knowledge 
hereafter.  In  this  life  we  see  spiritual  realities 
dimly ;  in  the  life  to  come  we  shall  see  them  clearly. 
We  have  said  that  "  the  Gospel  is  a  mirror  show- 
ing us  as  in  a  camera  obscura,  but  imperfectly, 
the  things  of  eternity  " ;  yet,  "  we  shall  stand  be- 
fore God,  and  look  upon  His  face;  and,  seeing 
Him,  we  shall  see  all  things."  *  And,  again,  "  the 
face  to  which  ours  will  be  turned  is  God's. "f  All 
true  enough  and  helpful,  without  a  doubt;  but  is 
it  not  a  little  strange  that  the  apostle  should 
make  such  a  wonderful  transition  from  his  theme, 
Charity,  to  this  clear  vision  of  eternity?  Why, 
the  strange  thing  is  that  it  has  not  seemed  strange 
to  us.     Consider  what  Paul  has  been  saying. 

This  chapter  is  the  glorious  hymn  of  love.  The 
religious  fervour,  the  intellectual  conquests,  the 

*Beet:  "Corinthians." 

t  Findlay:  Expositor's  Greek  Testament;  "Corinthians." 


THREE    JOHNS— THREE    THOMASES     205 

accumulated  philosophy  of  succeeding  centuries, 
have  produced  nothing  nobler  than  this.  You  can- 
not "  praise  "  this  perfect  utterance.  You  might 
as  well  "  approve "  the  perpetual  rainbow  over 
the  Fluela  Fall  or  the  after-glow  in  an  Alpine  sky. 
The  apostle  exhausts  the  resources  of  inspired 
eloquence  in  exposition  of  Charity.  And  he  looks 
for  the  maturing,  the  completion,  the  perfection, 
of  this  Christian  grace.  When  such  full-blos- 
somed Charity  has  come,  we  shall  see  with  perfect 
clearness.  In  proportion  as  it  comes,  we  shall  see 
better.  When  Charity  has  her  perfect  work,  we 
shall  see  so  distinctly  that  the  vision  may  be  said 
to  be  "  face  to  face."  Yes ;  that  we  have  always 
understood.  But  what  is  it  that  we  shall  sec? 
What  but  the  object  of  our  charity — our  fellow- 
man  ?  Towards  whom  have  you  exercised  charity  ? 
Your  brother-man,  your  neighbour,  your  friend, 
your  rival,  your  foe.  Then,  as  your  Charity 
deepens,  your  vision  of  him  will  clear.  As  you 
think  more  charitably  of  him  you  will  understand 
him  better.  When  Charity  towards  him  is  per- 
fected, you  will  see  him  face  to  face. 

The  phrase,  "  through  a  glass,  darkly,"  of  the 
Authorized  Version  has  given  place  to  "  through 
a  mirror,  darkly  "  in  the  Revised.  The  art  of 
silvering  glass  was  not  known  for  twelve  hundred 
years  after  the  apostle's  time.  The  mirrors  for 
which  Corinth  was  famous — you  remember  ]\Ia- 
caulay's  line  about  the  great  Roman  ladies,  "  who 
in  Corinthian  mirrors  their  own  proud  smiles  be- 
hold " — round   plates    of   burnished   metal,   were 


206     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

poor  reflectors.  We  see  our  brother-man  darkly, 
as  though  reflected  in  a  Corinthian  mirror. 
"  Enigmatically  "  we  see  him.  The  word  trans- 
lated "  darkly  "  is  our  word  for  enigma.  As  near 
as  possible,  we  have  taken  over  the  Greek  word, 
Greek  spelling,  Greek  pronunciation,  into  our  own 
tongue.  The  margin  of  the  Revised  Version  sug- 
gests, "  in  a  riddle."  Our  neighbour  is  a  riddle 
to  us.  Each  one  of  us  is  an  enigma  to  all  others. 
And  since  there  are  at  the  fewest  three  Johns  in 
John  and  three  Thomases  in  Thomas,  no  wonder 
that  there  should  be  more  or  less  confusion  and 
misapprehension !  When  two  people  are  together, 
there  are  six  talking.  John  sees  himself  reflected 
in  the  mirror  of  his  own  egotism,  and  Thomas  sees 
John  in  the  mirror  of  his  distrust ;  Thomas  sees 
himself  reflected  in  the  mirror  of  his  ideals,  and 
John  sees  Thomas  in  the  mirror  of  his  disdain. 
But  when  that  which  is  perfect  is  come,  these  four 
shall  be  done  away.  And  the  real  John,  as  God 
sees  him,  and  the  real  Thomas,  as  God  sees  him, 
shall  see  each  other  face  to  face,  and  each  shall 
know  as  each  is  known. 

This  thought  of  the  secret  life  in  man  is  very 
impressive.  Let  us  linger  a  little  while  and  talk 
about  it,  before  we  hurry  on  to  the  lesson  which 
it  teaches.  How  it  redeems  our  life  from  com- 
monplace !  *  A  writer  from  whom  we  expected 
much  delighted  us  some  years  ago  by  a  brilliant 
essay  on  "  Life  in  Inverted  Commas."  f    He  repre- 

*  Cf.   "The  Veiled   Life  in  Man"   in  Dr.   Brook   Her- 
ford's  "Small  End  of  Great  Problems." 
t  Richard  Le  Gallienne:  "Prose  Fancies." 


THREE    JOHNS— THREE    THOMASES    207 

sented  himself  as  watching  from  the  top  of  an 
omnibus  in  Fleet  Street  the  capture  of  a  notorious 
plagiarist  by  detectives  in  the  employ  of  the  In- 
corporated Society  of  Authors,  who  led  him  away 
secured  between  strong  inverted  commas.  This 
set  him  thinking.  And  he  looked  round  at  his 
companions  in  the  'bus.  "  There  was  the  young 
dandy  just  let  loose  from  his  band-box,  wearing 
exactly  the  same  face,  the  same  smile,  the  same 
necktie,  holding  his  stick  in  exactly  the  same 
fashion,  talking  exactly  the  same  words,  with  pre- 
cisely the  same  accent,  as  his  neighbour,  another 
dandy,  and  as  all  the  other  dandies  between  the 
Bank  and  Hyde  Park  Corner.  Looking  at  these 
examples  of  Nature's  love  of  repeating  herself," 
he  goes  on,  "  I  said  to  myself :  Somewhere  in 
heaven  stands  a  great  stencil,  and  at  each  sweep 
of  the  cosmic  brush  a  million  dandies  are  born, 
each  one  alike  as  a  box  of  collars.  Indeed,  I  felt 
that  this  stencil  process  had  been  employed  in  the 
manufacture  of  every  single  person  in  the  omni- 
bus :  two  middle-aged  matrons,  each  of  whom 
seemed  to  think  that  having  given  birth  to  six 
children  was  an  indisputable  claim  to  originality; 
two  elderly  business  men  to  correspond;  a  young 
miss,  carrying  music  and  wearing  eye-glasses ; 
and  a  clergyman  discussing  stocks  with  one  of  the 
business  men ;  I  alone  in  my  corner  being,  of 
course,  the  one  occupant  for  whom  Nature  had 
been  at  the  expense  of  casting  a  special  mould, 
and  at  the  extravagance  of  breaking  it !  "  To  be 
sure!     " /,  myself"  am  the  original  one.     And 


208  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

each  one  of  us  is  an  "  7,  myself!  "  Each  is  a 
microcosm — a  world  in  himself.  Our  surround- 
ings are  unpicturesque.  Our  appearance  is  col- 
ourless. We  shroud  our  individuality  in  the  greys 
and  drabs  of  the  uninteresting  and  unconvincing. 
We  are  mere  quotations  of  one  another,  and  we 
ought  to  feel  ashamed  to  be  seen  without  our  in- 
verted commas — until  the  eye  of  genius  pierces 
the  thin  veil  of  drab  or  grey,  and  the  true  life  is 
seen,  where  the  heart  pours  the  hot  blood  into  the 
brain,  and  the  grey  and  white  matter  there  red- 
dens with  the  lava-tides  and  flings  back  this  life 
in  emotion,  anguish,  passion,  prayer,  love,  hate, 
sin,  tragedy — all  the  unloosed  tempests  of  a  shore- 
less sea.  The  "  elderly  business  man,"  with  his 
frock-coat  and  his  watch  chain — do  you  see  him, 
the  man,  or  only  the  clothes  of  flesh  and  blood  he 
wears?  All  the  hate  of  all  the  hells  that  raged  in 
Othello's  breast  are  chained  and  curbed  beneath 
that  frock-coat.  The  clergyman  who  is  "  discuss- 
ing stocks,"  amiable  and  devout  when  need  be 
and  decorously  worldly  when  occasion  demands, 
do  you  really  see  him?  Scorching  his  very  soul 
is  the  scarlet  letter  which  burned  into  Arthur 
Dimmesdale's  flesh.  That  young  dandy,  with  his 
smile  and  his  necktie  and  his  stick — is  that  all 
you  see  of  him  ?  But  "  the  puppies  fight  well," 
said  Wellington  of  the  grandfather  of  this  very 
dandy  when  in  white  gloves  and  dancing  shoes  he 
rushed  to  his  death  at  Waterloo ;  and  the  brother 
of  this  dandy  died  on  Spion  Kop ;  and  by  the 
grace  of  God  this  one,  in  spite  of  his  necktie,  his 


THREE    JOHNS— THREE    THOMASES     209 

stick,  and  his  smile,  shall  yet  give  his  life  to  a 
righteous  cause,  and  make  us  think  Lloyd  Garri- 
son or  Henry  Drummond  has  come  to  life  again! 
Those  two  matrons  have  been  as  the  "  miss  "  car- 
rying her  music,  and  the  "  miss,"  with  her  music 
and  her  eye-glasses,  pray  God  she  be  as  they,  for 
with  Juliet's  trusting  soul  she  has  only  Ophelia's 
flighty  brain,  while  God's  world  is  richer  to-day 
because  these  two  middle-aged  matrons  have  been 
the  mothers  of  fair  women  and  brave  men. 

This  hidden  life,  I  must  keep  on  repeating,  is 
the  real  life.  In  our  human  nature,  too.  It  is  the 
unseen  which  is  the  real.  That  which  is  seen  is 
temporal,  but  that  which  is  not  seen  Is  eternal.  It 
Is  not  the  true  John  who  thinks  he  talks  with 
Thomas,  nor  the  true  John  whom  Thomas  thinks 
he  hears.  The  true  John  Is  John  as  neither  John 
nor  Thomas  sees  him — as  God  alone  can  see  him. 

Deliberately  we  hide  ourselves  from  our  fellows. 
And  for  one  man  Avho  hides  himself  for  a  base 
reason,  a  hundred  hide  from  motives  just  and 
honourable.  There  are  decent  and  modest  reti- 
cences of  the  soul  which  have  become  part  and 
parcel  of  our  highest  life.  So  true  Is  this,  that  a 
departure  from  them  may  almost  be  regarded  as 
pathological — calling  for  the  good  offices  of  one 
who  can  minister  to  a  soul  diseased.  It  is  a  shallow 
stream  Indeed  in  which  one  can  see  to  the  bottom 
at  the  first  glance.  In  the  normal  person,  in  the 
sane  person,  more  and  more  marvellously  in  robust 
personalities,  are  depths  deeper  than  ever  plummet 
sounded.    We  should  not  like  to  make  friends  with 


210     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

a  man  who  struck  twelve  the  first  time.  We  should 
turn  away  with  contempt  from  a  man  who  was 
more  like  plate-glass  than  a  Corinthian  mirror — 
if  there  was  such  a  man,  for  I  have  never  seen  him. 
Disease  is  ugly,  and  except  in  the  most  unmanly 
of  us  there  is  manliness  enough  to  make  us  seek  to 
hide  it.  Pain,  fear,  defeat,  are  humiliating,  and 
we  keep  them  to  ourselves.  I  have  always  known 
this ;  and  always  reckoned  these  things  amongst 
the  adorable  simplicities  and  commonplaces  of 
our  human  nature.  But  I  never  saw  so  much  of 
it  as  during  the  year  which  I  spent  in  a  sana- 
torium. How  we  all  hid  our  pain,  our  defeat,  our 
humiliation,  our  heart-break,  the  bitterness  of 
hope  deferred,  and  the  ever-gnawing  misery  which 
grows  with  the  realisation  of  a  wrecked  career,  a 
cramped  and  limited  life!  How  we  joked  about 
our  illness,  made  fun  of  all  our  losses,  chaffed 
each  other  about  our  own  defeats,  made  puns  in 
every  European  language,  and  shook  the  moun- 
tain heights  with  our  absurdities !  And  at  last, 
when  the  comedy  could  be  no  longer  played,  and 
the  shadows  lengthened  toward  the  night,  we  rang 
down  the  curtain  on  the  tragedy,  and  when  we 
raised  it  again  it  was  for  broad  farce.  God  and 
Myself:  between  these  two  the  true  man  owned  his 
weakness ;  for  all  the  world  besides  there  was  at 
least  the  decent  show  of  strength.  "  Uniforms," 
said  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  "  are  often  masks." 
We  are  timorous  about  our  hopes  and  young 
ambitions.  We  cannot  talk  about  them,  not  If 
they  are  genuine  and  born  of  a  genuinely  aspiring 


THREE    JOHNS— THREE    THOMASES     211 

soul.  Do  you  think  that  we  are  going  to  wear 
our  heart  upon  our  sleeve  for  daws  to  peck  at? 
Shall  we  bring  out  our  hopes  before  the  gaze  of  a 
world  in  too  big  a  hurry  to  be  sympathetic?  We 
have  borne  them  in  pain.  We  nurse  them  in 
delightful  anguish.  We  shall  not  expose  them  to 
the  chilling  sneer  of  men  who  have  forgotten  that 
ever  they  were  young.  And  our  hopes  yet  deeper, 
and  still  solemner  ambitions,  our  yearning  spirit- 
uality, our  unspoken  prayers,  the  quivering  faith 
that  in  the  silence  and  loneliness  looks  up  to  God 
— we  cannot  speak  of  these.  They  are  too  sacred 
for  much  speech. 

And  what  of  our  sins?  Better  keep  them  to 
yourself  as  well.  They,  too,  are  between  you  and 
God.  Let  your  confession  be  made  unto  Him. 
Jesus  Christ  is  the  one  Priest  who  can  never  fail 
you.  We  lose  sometimes,  but  not  greatly,  in  re- 
pudiating the  confessional.  And  Protestantism 
has  been  wise  in  rejecting  It.  Quite  apart  from 
its  abuses,  if  we  could  have  whatever  good  there 
is  in  it  without  its  mischief,  we  are  better  off  with- 
out it.  Protestantism  develops  the  manhood  and 
womanhood  within  us,  breeds  strong,  sane  natures 
who  need  no  intermediary  between  themselves  and 
Christ,  whose  strong,  deep  life  is  hidden  with 
Christ  in  God. 

So,  in  a  word,  in  one  way  or  another,  every 
brave  man,  every  brave  woman,  must  some  time 
play  a  part.  The  smiles  we  put  on  just  to  cover 
our  tears  are  the  blessed  hypocrisies  of  life  Avhich 
God  approves;  while  the  tears  which  never  flow, 


212  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

which  we  forbid  to  flow,  are  precious  in  His  sight 
for  ever. 

And  if  this  is  true,  if  only  part  of  this  is  true, 
how  enigmatic,  at  any  time,  under  any  circum- 
stance, must  be  the  life  of  one  man  to  another! 
Yet  we  should  lose  the  apostle's  view  if  we  did  not 
go  on  to  say  that  for  lack  of  charity  we  under- 
stand each  other  even  less  than  we  might,  even  less 
than  we  ought,  and  that  needless  confusion  and 
pain  result.  The  concealments  of  which  we  have 
spoken  are  dictated  by  love.  The  misunderstand- 
ings, misrepresentations,  all  the  exasperation  and 
bitterness  of  which  we  have  yet  to  speak,  which 
poison  life  and  make  men  seem  odious  to  one  an- 
other, are  all  caused  by  want  of  love.  When 
charity  has  her  perfect  work  these  shall  be  done 
away. 

The  elementary  antagonisms  of  life  are  very 
curious.  You  are  making  a  call  on  a  friend,  and 
some  other  person  calls,  and  you  wonder  what  he 
has  come  for !  In  the  world  of  thought  you  de- 
cidedly object  to  some  other  person  pretending 
to  know  anything  about  that  which  is  really  your 
own  subject,  while  I  have  known  men  who  would 
gladly  have  lain  down  their  lives  to  advance  a 
good  cause  who  have  nevertheless  felt  quite  hurt 
because  someone  else  has  come  into  the  work.  In 
the  world  of  business — ^but  I  am  not  competent 
to  speak  of  that!  I  understand  that  if  a  man 
starts  business  in  the  same  line  as  yourself,  in  the 
same  street — ^but  there  ought  to  be  a  law  against 
it !     When    these    elementary     antagonisms    are 


THREE    JOHNS— THREE    THOMASES     213 

sharpened  by  personal  feeling,  when  rivalries  and 
jealousies  and  selfishness  and  fear  lend  bitterness 
to  them,  when  dislike  deepens  into  hate,  then  we 
see  nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  that  is  good  in 
each  other.  We  cannot  be  fair.  We  cannot  be 
truthful.  We  misquote,  misrepresent,  distort, 
malign — and  tell  the  most  frightful  lies,  of  which 
we  ourselves  all  the  while  devoutly  believe  every 
word.  This  is  why  Paul  says  that  charity  seeketh 
not  her  own,  is  not  so  set  upon  selfish  ends  as  to 
be  bhnd  to  the  virtues  and  graces  which  are  in- 
disputably to  be  found  in  the  heart  of  every  one 
of  us. 

And  this  is  only  one  suggestion.  Our  want  of 
charity  still  further  obscures  the  mirror — which 
never  was  a  good  reflector,  and  we  make  it  worse. 
We  find  rudeness  where  there  is  nothing  but 
awkwardness,  shyness,  want  of  experience.  We 
do  not  really  hurt  each  other  because  we  want  to. 
It  is  awkwardness,  stupidity,  not  deliberate  rude- 
ness. The  worst  that  you  can  say  of  the  "  insuf- 
ferable "  person  is  that  his  manners  have  not  that 
repose  which  stamps  the  caste  of  Vere  de  Vere. 
Yet  his  impulsive,  generous  heart  may  be  more 
than  a  compensation,  and — ^maybe  you  have 
breathed  on  the  mirror. 

We  find  offence,  insult,  where  there  is  nothing 
but  tremendous  earnestness.  If  you  want  an  illus- 
tration, you  may  find  it  in  the  recollections  which 
General  Booth's  motor-tour  evokes.  Carry  your 
minds  back  to  the  time  when  mayors  and  corpora- 
tions did  not  turn  out  to  bid  him  welcome  to  their 


214  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

towns,  when  train-oil  and  bags  of  soot  were  his 
portion.  The  week  after  his  "  Darkest  England  " 
was  published  I  attended  a  meeting  of  preachers 
and  philanthropists  called  to  discuss  it.  Speaker 
after  speaker  raged  furiously  against  General 
Booth  because  he  had  ignored  every  worker  except 
himself,  had  "  posed  "  as  the  only  man  in  Eng- 
land who  cared  about  these  people  or  had  thought 
of  helping  them.  But  now,  looking  back  over 
nearly  fourteen  years,  do  you  really  think  that 
General  Booth  deliberately  left  all  other  noble- 
hearted  workers  out  of  account,  meaning  to  ignore 
and  insult  them?  Does  anybody  believe  it.''  Do 
the  men  who  raged  in  their  soreness  that  after- 
noon? You  know  that  they  do  not.  You  know, 
and  they  know,  that  General  Booth  was  too  much 
"  in  haste  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  too  anx- 
ious about  the  tremendous  hopes  that  were  surg- 
ing up  in  his  generous  soul,  to  give  a  thought  to 
the  need  for  compiling  a  tabulated  statement  of 
the  good  work  done  by  all  the  sweet-natured  men 
and  women  of  Great  Britain.  "  It  would  have 
been  more  charitable  if  he  had  done  so ! "  To  be 
sure!  And  more  charitable  of  us  all,  if  when  we 
found  that  he  had  not,  we  had  assumed  that  he 
would  have  done  if  he  had  thought  about  it.  Now 
we  see  in  a  mirror,  darkly ;  when  our  charitable 
thoughts  run  clearer,  we  shall  see  face  to  face. 

And  worse  than  all  this,  it  is  our  cruel  want  of 
charity  which  makes  it  possible  for  us  to  ascribe 
vile  motives  for  acts  which  are  passably  good,  to 
endorse  the  thievish  suggestion  that  the  philan- 


THREE    JOHNS— THREE    THOMASES    215 

thropist  has  "  an  axe  to  grind,"  and  the  Satanic 
sneer  that  Job  doth  not  "  serve  God  for  naught." 
How  httle  does  John  see  of  Thomas  and  Thomas 
of  John  when  each  bends  his  eyes  to  the  ground, 
digging  in  the  dirt  for  the  motive  of  his  brother's 
act! 

Let  us  try  to  imagine  the  real  man  whom  the 
mirror  so  badly  reflects.  We  want  to  see  the  real 
John,  as  God  sees  him.  It  is  an  exercise  of 
charity  to  try  to  picture  what  he  is  like.  You 
see  the  sin  which  he  has  committed.  My  brother, 
I  will  tell  you  something  you  have  not  seen — I 
will  tell  you  of  a  hundred  things  you  have  not 
begun  to  see :  the  sins  which  he  did  not  commit ! 
Anger,  passion,  hate,  lust,  gripped  him,  swayed 
him,  shook  him,  but  a  hundred  times  he  struggled, 
a  hundred  times  he  flung  his  foes,  a  hundred  times 
he  trampled  base  desire  beneath  his  feet.  Oh, 
but  it  was  grand,  the  struggle  and  the  conquest! 
You  saw  him  mastered  once;  you  did  not  see  him 
breathless  but  triumphant,  white  and  bloodless 
and  shaken  in  every  nerve,  but  victorious  over 
baffling  foes  a  hundred  times.  No ;  but  God  saw 
him;  and  it  is  God  who  bids  him  say,  "Rejoice 
not  against  me,  O  mine  enemy ;  when  I  fall  I  shall 
arise,  when  I  sit  in  darkness,  the  Lord  shall  be  a 
light  to  me."     It  is  God  who  hears  his  cry, 

Lord,  for  the  erring  thought 
Not  into  evil  wrought; 
Lord,  for  the  wicked  will 
Betraj'ed  and  baffled  still; 
For  the  heart  from  itself  kept. 
Our  thanksgiving  accept! 


216     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

We  do  not  see  the  virtues,  the  patient  goodness, 
the  uncomplaining  courage,  the  heroic  achieve- 
ments. Shall  I  repeat  again,  the  hidden  man  is 
the  real  man ;  the  best  part  of  the  man  is  the 
man  you  do  not  see?  Goethe  is  reported  to  have 
said,  "  There  is  something  in  every  man's  heart 
which  if  you  only  knew  it  would  make  you  hate 
him."  It  may  be  true,  but  this  I  know  is  true, 
that  in  many  a  secret  life  there  is  something 
which  if  you  only  knew  it  would  make  you  want 
to  fall  down  on  your  knees  and  worship !  Hateful 
or  worshipful  in  the  sight  of  man,  God  sees  us 
as  we  are!  Is  that  heaven  or  hell?  God  knows 
you  as  you  do  not  know  yourself ;  sees  you  in 
your  naked  soul.  Must  not  that  be  hell?  Un- 
repentant, selfish,  sowing  to  the  flesh,  loving  hate 
and  hating  love,  and  with  God's  keen,  searching 
gaze  looking  on  every  secret  deed  and  every 
hidden  thought — yes,  that  is,  and  that  ought 
to  be  a  veritable  hell!  Loathing  the  sins  that 
once  we  cherished,  seeking  the  purest  and  loving 
the  highest,  lifting  our  hearts  to  Him  and  pray- 
ing His  mercy — not  hell,  but  heaven,  the  heaven 
of  heavens  of  a  Father's  great  compassion !  To 
this  conclusion  come  at  last  the  most  spiritual  of 
seers  and  sages : 

Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children, 
So  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  Him. 
For  He  knoweth  our  frame, 
He  remembereth  that  we  are  dust. 

To   this   conclusion   comes   at  last  our  trembling 
faith,  and,  coming,  finds  the  shifting  sand  beneath 


THREE    JOHNS— THREE    THOMASES    217 

our  feet  as  stable  as  the  Rock  of  Ages.  Did  we 
think  that  we  should  dread  His  justice,  and  with 
burning  tears  appeal  from  it  unto  His  love?  Nay, 
but  His  justice  is  the  gladdest  thing  Creation 
can  behold.  He  who  made  us,  'tis  He  shall  judge 
us.  He  who  hath  loved  us.  He  loves  us  to  the 
end. 


XIII 
THE   SERPENT  AND   THE   ROD 


They  say, 
The  solid  earth  whereon  we  tread 

In  tracts  of  fluent  heat  began 
And  grew  to  seeming-random  forms. 
The  seeming  prey  of  cyclic  storms. 

Till  at  the  last  arose  the  man; 

Who  throve  and  branch'd  from  clime  to  clime, 

The  herald  of  a  higher  race, 

And  of  himself  in  higher  place. 
If  so  he  type  this  work  of  time. 

Within  himself,  from  more  to  more; 
Or,  crown'd  with  attributes  of  woe. 
Like  glories,  move  Jhis  course  and  show 

That  life  is  not  as  idle  ore. 

But  iron  dug  from  central  gloom. 
And  heated  hot  with  burning  fears. 
And  dipt  in  baths  of  hissing  tears. 

And  batter'd  with  the  shocks  of  doom 

To  shape  and  use.    Arise  and  fly 

The  reeling  Faun,  the  sensual  feast; 
Move  upward,  working  out  the  beast. 

And  let  the  ape  and  tiger  die. 

— Tennttsow. 


xni 

THE   SERPENT  AND   THE   ROD 

"  And  Moses  put  forth  his  hand,  and  laid  hold  of  the 
serpent,  and  it  became  a  rod  in  his  hand." — Exodus  iv.  5. 

He  put  forth  his  hand,  and  the  serpent,  dan- 
gerous, destructive,  deadly,  became  a  rod,  a  stay, 
a  support,  a  defence.  In  the  hand  of  a  strong 
man  the  pernicious  thing  became  beneficent. 

We  need  not  stay  to  consider  what  fact,  if 
any,  Hes  behind  this  incident.  Oriental  magic 
has  little  interest.  I  find  in  the  text  the  illustra- 
tion of  an  eternal  truth,  that  a  man  may  put 
forth  his  hand,  grasp  the  deadly  thing,  and  find 
it  stiffen  into  a  good,  useful  instrument  of  prog- 
ress. Touched  by  the  alchemy  of  heaven,  the 
poisonous  things  of  earth  discharge  a  ministry 
of  healing,  as,  in  the  hands  of  modern  chemists, 
the  refuse  of  coal-tar  gives  off  a  world  of  colour. 
This  is  God's  way  in  Nature.  It  is  God's  way  in 
history.  It  is  the  way  of  commanding  spirits 
amongst  men  in  the  face  of  adversity,  sorrow, 
and  pain.  It  may  be  the  way  of  a  man  who  has 
sinned.  The  output  of  human  energy  gathers 
to  itself  an  energy  Divine ;  man  links  himself 
with  God,  and  binds  his  feebleness  to  Almighty 
power. 

This  is  God's  way  in  Nature.     The  supremely 

221 


222     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

destructive  forces  of  the  universe  are  amongst 
the  supremely  great  and  supremely  blessed  of  the 
educative  agencies  of  life.  Man  has  entered  into 
conflict  with  them,  and  contending  with  them 
has  grown  strong  and  wise.  Henry  Drummond, 
in  his  own  delightful,  unapproachable  way,  in- 
troduces us  to  an  unevolved  savage  on  an  un- 
developed earth,  sprawling  in  the  sun  and  with 
no  desire  to  do  anything  but  sprawl  and  be  happy. 
Nature  around  him  is  silent,  inert,  invisible — so 
you  might  think.  But  in  reality  he  is  the  vic- 
tim of  a  conspiracy.  Nature  has  designs  upon 
him.  She  means  to  make  him  move  on.  She 
wishes  to  make  him  move  because  movement  is 
work,  work  is  exercise,  and  exercise  may  be  evo- 
lution. First  of  all,  Nature  sets  about  moving 
him  by  moving  herself.  The  earth  moves,  and 
the  sun  is  far  away  in  the  west,  and  he  must 
either  get  up  or  freeze.  Twilight  falls,  and  wild 
animals  come  from  their  lair,  and  he  must  either 
move  or  be  eaten.  The  food  he  ate  in  the  morn- 
ing has  dissolved  and  moved  away  to  nourish 
the  cells  of  the  body,  and  more  food  must  be 
moved  into  him  to  replenish  the  waste  of  tissue 
or  he  must  starve.  So  he  starts  up,  works, 
seeks  food,  shelter,  safety.  These  movements 
make  marks  in  the  body,  brace  muscles,  stimu- 
late nerves,  quicken  intelligence,  create  habits, 
and  he  becomes  more  able  and  more  willing  to 
repeat  them,  and  so  becomes  a  higher,  stronger 
man.  Multiply  these  movements  and  you  multi- 
ply him.     Make  him  do  things  he  never  did  be- 


THE    SERPENT    AND    THE    ROD      223 

fore,  and  he  will  become  what  he  never  was  before. 
The  earth  moves  till  the  sun  is  far  away,  and 
winter  snows  begin.  He  again  must  either  move, 
and  move  very  fast,  to  find  the  sun,  or  he  must 
chase,  and  also  very  fast,  some  thick-furred  ani- 
mal, kill  it,  and  clothe  himself  with  its  skin.  So 
he  becomes  a  hunter.  As  a  hunter  he  needs 
weapons.  To  throw  a  stone  at  an  animal  was 
good;  to  make  a  cunning  instrument  which  would 
throw  the  stone  twice  as  far  in  half  the  time 
was  better.  To  strike  or  thrust  with  the  torn 
branch  of  a  tree  was  good,  to  sharpen  the  end 
of  it  and  throw  it  as  an  assegai,  or  make  an 
instrument  that  would  throw  it,  as  an  arrow,  was 
still  more  to  his  purpose.  So  you  have  tools  and 
the  man !  So  you  have  arms  and  the  man !  *  In 
precisely  this  way  you  may  trace  man's  progress 
in  mechanical  arts,  in  construction,  in  all  the 
great  arts,  up  to  the  day  when  he  rears  ca- 
thedrals, builds  ocean  liners,  invents  wireless  te- 
legraphy. Where  Nature  is  prodigal  of  her 
bounty,  where  a  suit  of  clothes  grows  on  every 
tree  and  a  dinner  is  found  under  every  bush,  the 
animal  man  slumbers  and  sleeps.  Where  Nature 
enters  into  conflict  with  man,  bids  him  try  con- 
clusions with  this  old  earth,  its  storms  and  seas, 
surrounds  him  with  hardship  and  hazard,  he  finds 
himself.  He  puts  forth  his  hand  and  the  serpent 
becomes  a  rod. 

But  these  forces  of  Nature  have  their  terrors. 
They     crush,   maim,   blind,   burn,   destroy,    over- 
whelm, appal.     And  so  man  becomes  not  only  a 
*  "  The  Ascent  of  Man,"  chapter  vi. 


224     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

stronger  and  a  cunninger  man,  but  a  better  man. 
He  is  educated  by  adversity ;  and  his  heart  is 
educated  not  less  than  his  head.  He  learns  pity. 
He  enters  into  compassion.  He  develops  phi- 
lanthropy. The  shipwreck  launches  the  lifeboat. 
The  physician  is  bred  of  the  pestilence.  Liv- 
ing men  in  our  port  hasten  to  die,  that  dying 
men,  across  the  Bar,  may  live.  The  plague  is 
stopped,  because  the  bacteriologist  has  lived  and 
loved  and  died. 

And  Death  itself,  which  has  seemed  to  men 
the  greatest  Terror  of  all,  which  has  flung  a 
shadow  over  every  path,  has  touched  all  lives 
with  light.  Consciously  or  unconsciously,  work- 
ing through  the  thought  of  the  individual  or 
through  the  mind  of  the  race,  the  sense  of  death 
has  brought  meaning,  solicitude,  yearning,  into 
our  deepest  and  purest  affections.  Whether  we 
know  it  or  not,  it  is  the  reality  of  death  which 
has  brought  into  our  lives  grandeur  and  im- 
mensity. Through  death  has  God  set  eternity  in 
our  hearts.*  He  puts  forth  His  hand,  and  the 
serpent  becomes  a  rod. 

And  this  is  God's  way  in  history.  Though 
clouds  and  darkness  are  round  about  Him, 
righteousness  and  judgment  are  the  foundation 
of  His  throne.  Light  is  sown  for  the  righteous 
and    gladness    for    the    upright    in    heart.     The 

*  See  the  splendid  chapter  in  Fairbairn's  "  Philosophy  of 
the  Christian  Religion,"  "  The  question  as  affected  by  the 
problem  of  evil,"  sections,  "  Man  in  the  hands  of  Nature," 
and  "  Evils  peculiar  to  man." 


THE    SERPENT    AND    THE    ROD      225 

fashionable  madness  of  the  Middle  Ages,  what 
we  call  the  Crusades,  brought  the  nations  to- 
gether, woke  Europe  from  its  sleep,  opened  the 
way  for  arts,  commerce,  and  learning.  The  tri- 
umph of  the  Turks,  the  fall  of  Constantinople 
into  their  hands,  drove  the  Greeks  of  the  east 
westward.  The  love  of  learning  revived,  as  Greek 
language  and  literature  were  studied ;  men  turned 
to  the  New  Testament  in  its  original  tongue: 
it  was  the  Renaissance — ^the  new  birth  of  the 
nations,  the  intellectual  side  of  that  movement 
whose  moral  side  was  the  Protestant  Reformation. 
Tyrannies  and  persecutions  in  England  and  Scot- 
land drove  their  victims  to  Frankfort,  Geneva, 
Leyden,  the  free  cities  of  the  Continent.  There 
they  breathed  the  air  of  liberty,  came  back  to 
break  the  bands  of  oppression  here  and  let  the 
oppressed  go  free,  crossed  the  broad  Atlantic  to 
lay  the  foundations  of  the  great  Republic  of 
the  West.  Can  you  think  of  anything  more  alien 
from  the  mind  of  the  Master  than  the  malignity 
of  persecuting  orthodoxy.'^  The  spirit  that  hates 
for  the  love  of  God  and  "  from  the  tombs  of 
the  old  prophets  steals  the  funeral  lamps  away, 
to  light  up  the  martyr  fagots  round  the  prophets 
of  to-day  ".f*  You  cannot.  But  consider  again: 
Do  you  know  anything  which  has  better  served 
the  proclamation  of  the  Gospel  throughout  the 
world  than  this  same  persecuting  orthodoxy? 
Persecution  scattered  believers  throughout  the 
nations,  sent  them  to  preach  the  Gospel  where 
they  would  never  have  gone.     It  cut   them   off 


226  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

from  dependence  upon  material  things,  robbed 
them  of  the  comforts  and  luxuries  of  life  whose 
possession  makes  us  timorous  of  change,  fearful 
of  violence  and  loss.  Living,  the  persecuted  were 
braced  for  determined  conflict.  We  love  that 
for  which  we  have  suifered.  Easy  come,  easy  go 
— in  morals  as  in  material  things.  There  is  some- 
thing in  our  human  nature  which  urges  us  to 
speak  the  truth  which  we  are  forbidden  to  speak 
on  pain  of  chains  or  death.  And  dying,  the  per- 
secuted were  visibly  placarded  before  all  men's 
eyes  as  men  with  a  message,  men  with  a  purpose, 
men  with  a  spirit,  men  who  had,  beyond  all  dis- 
pute, found  somewhere  strength  which  brought 
heaven  down  to  earth  and  changed  agony  to  im- 
mortal joy. 

So  true  is  this,  as  a  principle  and  as  illustrated 
in  every  century,  that  when  the  not-wise  young 
man  went  to  Talleyrand  and  asked  for  his  advice 
as  to  the  propagation  of  a  new  religion  which  he 
had  just  Invented,  asking  the  world-weary  man 
what  he  must  do  to  get  his  new  religion  accepted 
amongst  men,  Talleyrand  looked  at  him  and  said, 
*'  I  should  advise  you  to  arrange  to  have  your- 
self crucified !  "  To  be  sure !  He  could  not  have 
done  better.  It  is  the  Cross  which  makes  Calvary 
the  highest  mountain  on  the  globe.  God  pours 
Himself  as  redemptive  energy  into  the  hearts  of 
men.  He  puts  forth  His  hand,  and  the  serpent 
becomes  a  rod. 

God's  way  In  Nature,  God's  way  in  history.  Is 
God's  way  for  each  one  of  us  in  our  own  life. 


THE    SERPENT    AND    THE    ROD      227 

Let  us  grasp  the  serpent  that  it  may  become  a 
rod. 

This  is  the  story  of  all  glorious  conquest  of 
adverse  circumstance.  Strolling  along  the  bank 
of  my  native  Trent,  I  have  seen  a  parable — with 
rod  and  line  in  its  hands !  Some  townsman, 
magnificently  equipped,  with  outfit  which  must 
have  cost  a  little  fortune,  which  would  have  made 
Isaak  Walton  turn  green  with  envy,  flung  his  line 
in  vain.  The  shadows  of  evening  fell  and  his 
face  lengthened,  and  there  was  never  a  fish  in 
his  creel.  And  beside  him  a  ragged  rascal  of 
a  village  schoolboy,  playing  truant,  with  his  bare 
feet  and  unwashed  hands,  with  his  home-made 
rod,  and  two-penny  line,  and  penny  float,  and 
halfpenny  tackle — swinging  out  the  roach  and 
dace  or  greedy  perch  at  almost  every  swim. 
"  These  things  are  written  allegorically ! "  It 
is  not  the  costliest  out-fit  which  takes  the  biggest 
psh.  Cardinal  Wolsey,  Daniel  De  Foe,  and 
Henry  Kirke  White — it  would  be  impossible  to 
name  in  a  breath  three  men  more  utterlj'^  unlike 
each  other — were  all  the  sons  of  butchers. 
Jeremy  Taylor,  one  of  the  greatest  of  English 
preachers,  Richard  Arkwright,  the  real  founder 
of  our  cotton  industries,  and  Turner,  the  painter, 
were  all  barbers.  John  Bunyan  was  a  tinker. 
Robert  Burns  a  ploughman.  Ben  Jonson  a  brick- 
layer. Livingstone  was  a  weaver.  Stanley  a 
workhouse  boy.  Carey  a  cobbler.  Copernicus 
was  the  son  of  a  baker.  Kepler  came  from  a 
German   inn.      Whitefield  was   a   barman   at  the 


228  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

"  Bell  Tavern "  in  Gloucester.  Haydn  was  a 
wheelwright.  Hildebrand  a  village  carpenter. 
George  Stephenson  was  an  engine-fireman,  and 
taught  himself  arithmetic  on  the  side  of  colliery 
waggons.  Wilkie  learned  art  Avith  a  piece  of  chalk 
and  a  barn  door.  West  made  his  first  brushes 
out  of  the  cat's  tail.  Watt  constructed  his  first 
model  out  of  an  old  syringe.  Humphry  Davy 
extemporised  his  scientific  appliances  from  kitchen 
pots  and  pans ;  and  Faraday  his  from  glass 
bottles.  Elihu  Burritt  mastered  eighteen  ancient 
and  modern  languages  while  earning  his  living  as 
a  blacksmith! 

Why,  you  would  really  think  that  it  was  an 
advantage  to  have  no  advantages  at  all !  As 
you  contemplate  the  victories  of  initiative,  of 
enterprise,  of  industry  over  "  those  twin  gaolers 
of  the  daring  heart,  low  birth  and  iron  fortune," 
you  begin  to  think  that  you  have  found  the  royal 
road  to  prosperity,  that  it  consists  in  being  poor, 
handicapped,  Avithout  money,  friends,  or  influence, 
with  willing  hands,  strong  brain,  and  determined 
will  to  seize  the  serpent  and  turn  it  into  a  rod! 
These  adverse  circumstances,  what  are  they  but 
a  call  to  perseverance,  concentration,  devotion, 
courage,  self-mastery — all  the  plain,  heroic  virtues 
out  of  which  are  fashioned  the  "  great  lever 
souls,  who  lift  the  world,  and  roll  it  in  another 
course".'' 

And  this  is  the  Gospel  of  Sorrow,  which  I  pass 
over  this  morning  with  this  bare  word,  to  come 
back  to  it  another  day,  for  I  know  how  good  it 


THE    SERPENT    AND    THE    ROD      229 

is,  and  show  once  more  how  we  may  distil  the 
honey-sweetness  of  sympathy,  goodness,  and 
gladness  in  God  from  the  serpent-poison  of  a 
bitter  grief. 

I  turn  to  what  seems   to  me  a  very  fruitful 
and  helpful  suggestion,  growing  out  of  this  text. 
Modem  science  speaks  of  the  persistence  of  en- 
ergy with  the  conversion  of  force.     The  August 
evening    is    charged    with     storm;    the    sky    is 
threatening    and    yellow.     From    the    impact    of 
great  cloud  masses  leaps  a  force  as  light ;  it  runs 
down    the    hghtning    conductor    as    electricity; 
it  melts  it  as  heat;  it  crashes  through  the  solid 
masonry  as  motion.    The  original  energy  persists  ; 
the    force   has   been   more   than   once    converted. 
The  apostle  says  that  we  are  "the  children   of 
wrath."     By  that  he  does  not  mean  that  we  are 
born  the  inheritors  of  the  anger  of  an  implacable 
deity.     He  means  that  we  are  wrathful  children, 
creatures  of  wild  impulse,  savage  desires,  turbu- 
lent passions.     There  are  forces  and  fires  within 
us,  ready  to  leap  forth  in  wliite  heat  of  anger, 
kindling  hate,  or  fiery  lusts  of  the  flesh.    Amongst 
these   volcanic   natures,   with   their  burning   pas- 
sions, the    children    of    genius    have    been    often 
found,    so    often,   indeed,   that   men   have   taught 
as    a   doctrine   the   behef   that   you   cannot   have 
genius  without  the  fierce  fires  of  passion  by  which 
it  is  fed,  and  that  to  ask  the  man  of  genius  to 
conform  to  the  conventions  of  morality  by  which 
our    common    clay    is    bound    is    to    commit    the 
worst    of    intellectual   blunders,  is    to    be    guilty 


230     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

of  a  contradiction  in  terras.  The  saintly  lives  of 
a  hundred  men  of  genius,  who  have  at  once 
obeyed  and  glorified  the  laws  of  Christian  life, 
challenge  this  assertion.  And  the  truth  is  that 
these  forces  and  fires,  of  which  I  have  spoken,  by 
which  hatreds,  passions,  lusts  are  too  often 
nourished,  may  really  feed  the  high  impulses 
of  the  soul  which  give  us  prophets,  apostles, 
saints,  missionaries,  martyrs,  the  aristocracy  of 
the  heart,  the  hierarchy  of  redemption.  It  is  the 
persistence  of  energy  with  the  conversion  of  force, 
the  energy  of  passion  converted  into  a  force  that 
makes  for  righteousness  and  salvation. 

If  my  body  come  from  brutes,  tho'  somewhat  finer  than 
their  own, 
I  am  heir,  and  this  my  kingdom.    Shall  the  royal  voice  be 
mute? 
No,  but  if  the  rebel  subject  seek  to  drag  me  from  the 
throne. 
Hold  the  sceptre,  human  soul,  and  rule  thy  province  of 
the  brute. 

Yet  what  if  we  have  failed?  If  the  brute  has 
broken  leash,  and  raged  in  his  brutal  way.?  If 
the  human  soul  has  not  held  the  sceptre,  has 
been  subject  to  the  vassal  instincts  which  have 
dragged  it  from  the  throne?  If  we  have  sinned, 
and  our  sin  is  triumphant  over  us?  If  the  ser- 
pent has  uncoiled,  has  poised,  has  stung,  and  the 
deadly  virus  of  accomplished  iniquity  is  coursing 
through  our  veins:  does  this  Gospel  still  hold 
good?  It  does  hold  good.  It  is  here  that  its 
most    glorious    victories    have    been    won.     The 


THE    SERPENT    AND    THE    ROD      231 

destructive  energy  of  completed  sin  is  converted 
by  forgiveness  into  the  force  of  a  gracious  and 
fruitful  life. 

What  is  forgiveness?  It  is  not  miraculous 
dehverance  from  the  consequence  of  sin,  not 
remission  of  penalty.  This  is  what  people  look 
for.  Perhaps  it  is  what  we  have  taught  them  to 
expect.  The  Gospel  does  not  offer  it.  The 
Bible  does  not  promise  it.  It  is  the  sin  which 
must  be  blotted  out,  not  the  penalty.  God  could 
not  take  the  penalty  out  of  life  while  the  sin 
remained.  A  liar  may  repent  of  his  untruthful- 
ness ;  but  the  penalty  remains  in  a  reputation 
which  no  man  can  trust.  The  drunken  debauch, 
repented  the  next  morning,  brings  a  headache, 
and  a  life  of  drunken  debauch,  repented  at  last, 
leaves  the  wrecked  body  and  poisoned  brain. 
A  man  may  repent  his  dishonesty,  but  the  prison 
waits  for  him.  Sin,  which  no  man  knows  but  the 
sinner,  entails  its  consequences,  and  the  conse- 
quences must  be  met.  What  is  forgiveness,  and 
what  can  the  Gospel  do? 

Divine  forgiveness  is  God's  touch  upon  these 
old  destructive  energies  of  guilt,  converting  them 
into  a  force  which  builds  up  and  purifies  and  re- 
news. This  force  sets  up  new  recuperative  proc- 
esses, accumulates  moral  assets  which  outpay  the 
deficits  of  guilt,  and  in  time  enrich  the  life  as  it 
was  never  rich  before.  We  are  more  than  con- 
querors through  Him  that  loved  us. 

A  man  falls  into  evil  courses.  It  is  the  old 
story,    drink    and    dissipation.     Little    by    little 


232  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

his  business  dwindles  away ;  friends  fall  from 
him;  his  home  is  broken  up.  He  is  a  wreck. 
One  day,  when  the  devil  enters  into  him  with  the 
poisoned  drink,  he  strikes  his  wife  and  does  her 
a  lasting  injury.  And  then  he  sees  himself  as  he 
is,  repents  his  self-indulgence,  his  vice,  his  cruelty. 
He  calls  upon  his  soul  and  all  that  is  within  him; 
he  rises ;  he  is  free !  Yes,  but  he  cannot  walk 
down  to  his  office  to-morrow  morning  and  find  a 
flourishing  business  as  though  nothing  had  hap- 
pened during  all  these  years.  He  is  repentant, 
and  he  has  found  forgiveness.  True;  but  the 
home  that  has  been  broken  up  will  not  be  brought 
through  the  air  and  opened  for  his  reception  like 
Aladdin's  palace.  And  the  injury  which  he  has 
done  his  wife,  that  abides.  What  is  forgiveness? 
The  touch  of  God's  hand  upon  these  energies  of 
his  nature,  converting  them  to  deep  resolve,  grow- 
ing self-control,  industry,  sacrifice,  affection,  de- 
votion. In  time  these  shall  accumulate  their  moral 
assets.  He  cannot  bring  back  the  years  that 
are  fled.  But  in  time  he  shall  acquire  a  greater 
business.  He  shall  build  a  happier  home.  And 
his  wife,  though  the  scar  is  in  her  flesh  and  will 
never  pass  away,  in  the  infinite  goodness  of  a 
woman's  love,  which  saves,  and  shelters,  and  re- 
deems us  men,  and  is  like  the  infinite  mercy  of 
God — his  wife,  for  the  conquest  of  his  evil  pas- 
sions and  his  rise  to  moral  grandeur,  shall  love 
him  more  tenderly  than  before,  and  the  last 
years  of  their  life  shall  be  their  best  years, 
opening  still  better  in  the  land  where  the  years 
shall  cease. 


THE    SERPENT    AND    THE    ROD      233 

This  is  the  gospel  for  us.  0  men  who  have 
sinned,  and  come  short  of  the  promise  of  your 
manhood;  women,  who  have  come  short  of  the 
beauty  of  your  girlhood ;  my  fellow-sinners,  who 
have  sinned  and  come  short  of  the  glory  of  God 
— ^put  forth  your  hand,  and  the  serpent  shall 
become  a  rod !  It  is  easy  to  think  ourselves 
into  a  fatalistic  fog,  to  believe  that  we  are  so 
conditioned  and  bound  by  past  weaknesses,  by 
irrecoverable  yieldings,  or  by  cruel  circumstances, 
that  there  is  nothing  for  us  but  to  drift.  The 
answer  to  it  is  in  fact.  Assert  yourself!  You 
can.  We  can  think  ourselves  into  incompetence, 
dream  ourselves  into  helplessness,  go  "  mooning," 
into  moral  imbecility,  until  we  give  ourselves  a 
great  mental  and  moral  shake,  and  fling  these 
flimsy  fetters  from  our  emancipated  soul.  We 
have  never  exploited  all  the  resources  of  human 
nature.  We  have  never  called  up  the  reserves  of 
strength,  hope,  courage,  purpose  which  wait  our 
call.  Neither  feeble  health,  nor  cramping  poverty, 
nor  crushing  sorrow,  nor  accomplished  sin,  nor 
evil  habits,  shall  paralyse  the  aspirations  of 
your  essential  manhood,  nor  quench  its  im- 
mortality. 

All  the  Powers  that  soon  or  late 

Gain  for  man  some  sacred  goal. 
Are  co-partners  in  thy  fate, 

Are  companions  of  thy  soul; 
Unto   thee   all  earth  shall   bow; 
These  are  Heaven  and  these  are  thou. 

Put  forth  your  hand,  my  brother,  and  the  serpent 
shall  become  a  rod! 


XIV 
THE  ACCEPTANCE  OE  THE  UNIVERSE 


The  world's  no  blot  for  us. 
Nor  blank;  it  means  intensely  and  means  good: 
To  find  its  meaning  is  my  meat  and  drink, 

— Robert  Beowniko. 


XIV 
THE  ACCEPTANCE  OF  THE  UNIVERSE 

"  For  my  yoke  is  easy,  and  ray  burden  is  light." 

— Matthew    xi.  30. 

"  Lined  with  love,"  is  the  quaint  phrase  with 
which  Matthew  Henry  describes  the  "  easy " 
yoke  of  Christ.  The  yoke  is  that  which  binds  us 
to  service  and  compels  our  labour.  In  this 
work-a-day  world  of  ours  the  yoke  too  often 
galls  us.  We  strain.  We  toil.  We  wince.  But 
the  yoke  which  binds  us  to  the  service  of  Christ 
is  easy  to  bear ;  as  the  Greek  word  suggests,  "  the 
part  on  which  it  presses  takes  kindly  to  it."  Let 
organised  strength,  against  our  will  and  in  spite 
of  our  protests,  rivet  a  yoke  upon  us,  and  flesh 
and  spirit  cry  out  against  it.  But  the  yoke 
which  we  assume  with  willing  hands,  and  fasten 
upon  ourselves  with  glad,  brave  heart,  may  be- 
come a  living  glory.  Does  any  man  choose  bonds 
when  he  might  be  free?  But  all  men  would  so 
choose,  if  they  knew  the  pure  and  perfect  joy  of 
surrender  to  a  Master  infallibly  wise  and  incor- 
ruptibly  pure.  Slaves  of  Christ,  we  are  the 
world's  free  men.     His  service  is  perfect  liberty. 

Christ  calls  to  Himself  all  those  who  labour, 
who  are  weary  of  doing.    He  calls  to  Himself  all 
who    are    heavy  laden,    who    are    exhausted    by 
S37 


238  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

suffering.  He  calls  us,  the  labouring  souls, 
who  bear  the  burden  and  the  heat,  and  groan 
beneath  our  task.  He  calls  us  to  Himself.  He 
calls  us,  the  heavy  laden,  who  sink  beneath  a  load 
of  sorrow  and  yet  daily  fear  some  fresh  disaster. 
He  calls  us  to  His  side.  He  bids  us  take  fresh 
yoke  of  service,  bind  ourselves  to  tasks  of  endless 
labour,  and  bear  with  Him  the  burden  of  the 
sins  and  sorrows  of  the  race!  He  makes  no 
offer  to  relieve  us  of  our  burden.  No;  but  He 
asserts  that  He  will  increase  it !  Yet  He  promises 
that  if  we  come  to  Him,  we  shall  find  rest  "  unto 
our  souls  " — a  peace,  and  calm,  and  rest  of  spirit, 
in  whose  strength  we  may  carry  the  burden  of  our 
world. 

The  gracious  promise  of  our  Lord  ends  with 
the  assertion  of  my  text.  The  experience  of 
men  and  women  of  every  race,  of  every  condition, 
of  every  type  and  temperament,  of  all  ages, 
under  all  known  and  conceivable  conditions, 
rich  and  poor,  refined  and  illiterate,  wise  and 
simple,  affirms  the  reality  of  this  fact  sublime. 
The  proof  of  Christianity  is  in  itself.  If  men 
would  know  whether  Christianity  is  true,  let 
them  try  it.  Let  them  taste  and  see  how  gracious 
the  Lord  is.  His  yoke  is  easy,  and  His  burden  is 
light. 

It  is  said  that  Margaret  Fuller  was  in  the 
habit  of  exclaiming,  in  her  exaggerated,  ridicu- 
lous way,  "  I  accept  the  universe."  When  this 
was  told  to  Thomas  Carlyle,  the  old  man  said 
sardonically,   "  Gad !   she'd   better !  "     Professor 


ACCEPTANCE    OF    THE    UNIVERSE     239 

James,  of  Harvard,  who  tells  this  story,*  adds 
that  "  at  bottom  the  whole  concern  of  morality 
and  religion  is  with  the  manner  of  our  acceptance 
of  the  universe."  And  he  goes  no.  "  Do  we 
accept  it  only  in  part  and  grudgingly,  or  heartily 
and  altogether?  Shall  our  protests  against  cer- 
tain things  in  it  be  radical  and  unforgiving,  or 
shall  we  think  that,  even  with  evil,  there  are  ways 
of  living  which  must  lead  to  good?  If  we  accept 
the  whole,  shall  we  do  so  as  if  stunned  into  sub- 
mission— as  Carlyle  would  have  us — '  Gad !  we'd 
better ' — or  shall  we  do  so  with  enthusiastic  as- 
sent?" 

But  before  we  plunge  deeper  into  the  discussion 
of  the  manner  of  our  acceptance  of  the  universe, 
let  me  remind  you  that,  absurd  as  it  sounds  to 
put  it  in  this  way,  innumerable  lives  are  lived 
all  about  us  in  daily  and  hourly  refusal  to  "  ac- 
cept the  universe." 

How  many  of  you  remember  Byron's  "  Lucifer  " 
— the  atheist  lecturer  whom  the  poet  dressed  up 
as  his  Satanic  hero?  His  words  are  striking,  when 
he  talks  about 

Souls  who  dare  use  their  immortality — 
Souls  who  dare  look  the  Omnipotent  tyrant  in 
His  everlasting  face,  and  tell  Him  that 
His  evil  is  not  good ! 

We  all  pass  through  a  Byron  phase — even  those 
of  us  who  have  not  read  a  line  of  Byron,  to  our 
knowledge,  in  all  our  life.  When  the  Byron  mood 
through  which  we  pass  synchronises  with  our  first 
*  "  The  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,"  p.  41. 


240  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

knowledge  of  the  poet,  we  think  that  Byron  has 
said  some  of  the  truest,  strongest,  realest  things 
ever  said  by  mortal!  The  Byron  mood  is  the 
mood  of  revolt — revolt  against  everything,  man 
and  God,  ourselves  and  the  course  and  consti- 
tution of  nature,  the  past,  the  present,  and  the 
future.  And  in  essence  Carlyle's  advice.  "  Close 
your  Byron,  open  your  Goethe,"  is  an  exhorta- 
tion to  cease  from  this  attitude  of  revolt  and  to 
*'  accept  the  universe." 

There  are  times  when  we  rage  against  the 
inevitability  of  things.  It  seems  to  us  cruel 
beyond  words.  Our  rage  against  it  transcends 
all  bounds.  Our  rebellion  is  speechless.  So 
small  a  thing  affects  the  current  of  all  our  life. 
One  false  note  jars  the  music  of  the  spheres.  It 
was  such  a  beggarly,  such  a  miserable  trifle,  a 
something,  a  breath,  a  nothing.  It  was  a  word, 
so  idly  spoken,  a  trivial  act  so  carelessly  flung 
into  the  deathless,  never-ending  whirl  of  human 
life.  And  this  trifle,  this  something,  this  nothing, 
has  produced  results,  which  have  become  causes, 
which  have  set  in  motion  other  causes,  which  go 
working  on,  producing,  creating,  destroying — 
why,  the  very  contemplation  of  it  is  maddening; 
to  think  that  we  cannot  take  back  that  paltry 
word,  undo  that  miserable  act,  and  silence  the  in- 
fernal discord  which  we  have  started  with  our  one 
false  note ! 

We  fling  ourselves  with  impotent  passion 
against  the  injustice  of  life.  There  are  senseless 
cruelties  in  Nature  which  arouse  our  horror. 
This  old  earth  of  ours  makes  mock  of  us.    We  are 


ACCEPTANCE    OF    THE    UNIVERSE     241 

the  sport  of  the  high  gods  who  laugh  at  us.  And 
down  below,  infinite  strength  is  armed  against 
unspeakable  weakness ;  the  puny  child  is  in  a 
giant's  grip,  and  for  the  spoiling  of  the  poor, 
for  the  sighing  of  the  needy,  God  does  not 
arise! 

We  are  impatient  of  the  intolerable  patience  of 
God!  Age  by  age,  shrouded  in  His  eternal  in- 
visibility. He  watches  the  martyrdom  of  man.  He 
looks  down  upon  the  sighs,  the  sorrows,  and  the 
tears  of  our  sad  world.  So,  in  these  dark  moods, 
it  seems  to  us ;  and,  like  William  Watson,  break- 
ing his  heart  over  the  age-long  torture  of  Ar- 
menia, we  find  God's  patience  to  be  a  terrible  test 
of  our  faith  in  Him: 

What  wonder  if  yon  torn  and  naked  throng 
Should  doubt  a  Heaven  that  seems  to  wink  and  nod. 
And  having  moaned  at  noontide,  "  Lord,  how  long?  " 
Should  cry,  "Where  hidest  Thou?"  at  even- fall. 
At  midnight,  "  Is  He  deaf  and  blind,  our  God?  " 
And  ere  day  dawn,  "  Is  He  indeed  at  all?  " 

Happy  is  the  man  who  has  closed  his  Byron 
and  opened  his  Goethe,''  Happy  is  the  man  who, 
in  calmer  mood,  with  wider  vision,  has  come  to 
see  in  the  inevitability  of  things  against  which 
he  formerly  raged,  God's  guarantee  of  stability, 
man's  assurance  of  safety,  in  an  ordered  world. 
If  there  were  no  such  "  inevitability,"  if  no 
man  could  be  sure  that  vice  to-day  would  not  be 
virtue  to-morrow,  that  in  the  moral  world  two 
and  two  would  always  make  four ;  if  no  man 
could  be  certain  that  the  retribution  which  waits 
on  treachery,  baseness,  and  dishonour  would  not 


242  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

be  adjudged  the  due  recompense  and  reward  of 
self-sacrifice,  loyalty,  and  goodness — this  world 
would  be  a  Bedlam  and  all  the  men  and  women 
worse  than  mad.  The  mind  reels  at  the  thought 
of  caprice  enthroned  above  the  world.  And  happy 
is  that  man,  too,  who  has  come  to  see  how  these 
slow  processes  of  God,  which  once  threatened  to 
make  shipwreck  of  his  faith,  are  most  God-like 
and  beneficent ;  who  sees  that  God  is  working 
everywhere,  in  the  darkness,  beyond  the  shadow, 
keeping  watch  above  His  own.  Yes,  happy  the 
man  who  has  closed  his  Byron  and  opened  his 
Goethe !  Happier  he  who  has  opened  his  John 
and  his  Paul ;  who  feels  that  the  kingdoms  of  this 
world  are  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  God  and 
of  His  Christ;  and  that  the  creation  itself  shall 
be  delivered  from  the  bondage  of  corruption  into 
the  liberty  of  the  glory  of  the  children  of  God! 
And  happiest  of  all,  the  man  in  whose  heart  abides 
the  Comforter  whom  God  promised  by  His  Son 
Jesus  to  send,  the  man  who  still  hears  his  Saviour 
whisper,  ""  Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  that  labour  and 
are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest  "  ! 

So,  then,  the  absurdity  of  the  phrase  notwith- 
standing, a  preacher  may  yet  exhort  you,  for 
your  strength  and  comfort,  "  Accept  the  Uni- 
verse! " 

But  now  let  us  go  back  to  the  question,  In 
what  manner  shall  we  accept  the  universe.? 
There  are  two  ways.  There  is  the  way  of  strong, 
stern,  resigned  submission.  And  there  is  the  way 
of  radiant  gladness,  love,  and  rapture. 


ACCEPTANCE  OF  THE  UNIVERSE  243 

Of  the  Stoic  way,  the  way  of  proud  submis- 
sion, I  am  not  likely  to  say  one  disrespectful 
word.  Nay,  I  admire  it  intensely.  Professor 
James  has  quoted  some  passages  from  Marcus 
Aurelius,  which  everybody  must  feel  are  admir- 
able. And  he  has  set  against  them,  in  fine  con- 
trast, rapt  utterances  from  "  The  Imitation  of 
Christ."  But  let  me  quote  to  you  a  favourite 
passage  of  my  own  from  another  Pagan  saint, 
from  Epictetus: 

"  My  friends,  wait  upon  God.  When  He  Him- 
self shall  give  you  the  signal  and  release  you  from 
this  service,  then  are  ye  released  unto  Him.  But 
for  the  present,  bear  to  dwell  in  this  place,  wherein 
He  has  set  you.  Short,  indeed,  is  this  time  of 
your  sojourn,  and  easy  to  bear  for  those  that 
are  so  minded.  For  what  tyrant  or  what  thief 
is  there  any  longer,  or  what  court  of  law  is 
terrible  to  one  who  thus  makes  nothing  of  the 
body  and  the  possessions  of  it?  Remain,  then, 
and  depart  not  without  a  reason. 

"  But  for  how  long  are  such  injunctions  to  be 
obeyed.''  So  long  as  it  is  profitable — that  is  to 
say,  so  long  as  I  can  do  what  becomes  and  befits 
me.  .  .  .  Doth  it  smoke  in  the  chamber.? 
if  it  is  not  very  much  I  will  stay,  if  too  much  I 
will  go  out ;  for  remember  this  always,  and  hold 
fast  to  it ;  that  the  door  is  open.  '  Thou  shalt 
not  live  in  Nicopolls.'  Good ;  I  will  not.  '  Nor 
in  Athens.'  I  will  not  live  in  Athens.  '  Nor  in 
Rome.'  Neither  will  I  live  in  Rome.  *  Live  in 
Gyara.'     But  living  in  Gyara  seemeth  to  me  like 


244  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

a  great  smoke.  I  will  depart,  whither  no  man 
shall  hinder  me  to  dwell — for  that  dwelling  stands 
ever  open  to  all. 

"  Only  do  it  not  unreasonably,  nor  in  cowardly 
fashion,  nor  make  every  common  chance  an  ex- 
cuse. For  again,  it  is  not  God's  will,  for  He 
hath  need  of  such  an  order  of  things,  and  of 
such  a  race  upon  the  earth.  But  if  He  give  the 
signal  for  retreat,  as  He  did  to  Socrates,  we  must 
obey  Him  as  our  commander." 

And  one  other,  shorter  passage  from  this  Pagan 
saint : 

"  Remember  that  thou  art  an  actor  in  a  play 
of  such  a  part  as  it  may  please  the  director  to 
assign  thee ;  of  a  short  part  if  he  choose  a  short 
part;  of  a  long  one  if  he  choose  a  long.  And 
if  he  will  have  thee  take  the  part  of  a  poor  man, 
or  a  cripple,  or  a  governor,  or  a  private  person, 
mayest  thou  act  that  part  with  grace !  For  thine 
it  is  to  act  well  the  allotted  part,  but  to  choose 
it  is  another's." 

Let  us  add  to  these  quotations  one  from  a 
modern  man  who  may  not  have  been  a  Pagan,  but 
who  certainly  was  not  a  saint: 

Out  of  the  night  that  covers  me, 
Black  as  the  pit  from  pole  to  pole, 

I  thank  whatever  gods  may  be, 
For  my  unconquerable  soul. 

In  the  fell  clutch  of  circumstance 
I  have  not  winced  nor  cried  aloud. 

Under  the  bludgeoning  of  chance 
My  head  is  bloody,  but  unbowed. 


ACCEPTANCE    OF    THE    UNIVERSE     245 

Beyond  this  place  of  wrath  and  tears 
Looms  but  the  Horror  of  the  shade. 

And  yet  the  menace  of  the  years 
Finds  and  shall  find  me  unafraid. 

It  matters  not  how  strait  the  gate, 

How  charged  with  punishments  the  scroll, 

I  am  the  master  of  my  fate: 
I  am  the  captain  of  my  soul.* 


Let  me  repeat  that  these  utterances  of  Stoic 
resignation  are  not  to  be  contemned.  They  are 
admirable — in  default  of  something  stronger  still 
and  sweeter,  diviner  and  still  human.  Compare 
this  beautiful  utterance  of  a  poor  Methodist 
woman   in  the  eighteenth   century: 

"  I  do  not  know  when  I  have  had  happier 
times  in  my  soul,  than  when  I  have  been  sitting 
at  work  with  nothing  before  me  but  a  candle 
and  a  white  cloth,  and  hearing  no  sound  but  that 
of  my  own  breath,  with  God  in  my  soul  and 
heaven  in  my  eye.  I  rejoice  in  being  exactly 
what  I  am, — a  creature  capable  of  loving  God, 
and  who,  as  long  as  God  lives,  must  be  very  happy. 
I  get  up  and  look  for  a  while  out  of  the  window, 
and  gaze  at  the  moon  and  stars,  the  work  of  an 
Almighty  hand.  I  think  of  the  grandeur  of  the 
universe,  and  then  sit  down  and  think  myself  one 
of  the  happiest  beings  in  it." 

And  this  from  a  writer  f  whom  few  of  you 
know : 

"  What  inexpressible  joy  for  me,  to  look  up 
through  the  apple  blossoms  and  the  fluttering 
leaves  and  to  see  God's  love  there;  to  listen  to 
*  W.  E.  Henley.  f  Elizabeth  Charles. 


246     THE    COURAGE    OF    THE    COWARD 

the  thrush  that  has  built  his  nest  among  them, 
and  to  feel  God's  love,  who  cares  for  the  birds, 
in  every  note  that  swells  his  little  throat;  to 
look  beyond  to  the  bright,  blue  depths  of  the 
sky,  and  feel  they  are  a  canopy  of  blessing — the 
roof  of  the  house  of  my  Father;  that  if  clouds 
pass  over  it,  it  is  the  unchangeable  light  they 
veil;  that,  even  when  the  day  itself  passes,  I  shall 
see  that  the  night  only  unveils  new  worlds  of 
light,  and  to  know  that  if  I  could  unwrap  fold 
after  fold  of  God's  universe,  I  should  only  unfold 
more  and  more  blessing  and  see  deeper  and  deeper 
into  the  love  which  is  at  the  heart  of  all." 

And  I  need  do  no  more  than  remind  you  of 
some  of  the  best  known  hymns  in  our  language, 
Frances  Ridley  Havergal's  "  Take  my  Life,"  let 
us  say,  or  Adelaide  Ann  Proctor's  "  Our  God, 
we  thank  Thee,  who  hast  made  the  earth  so 
bright,"  with  its  verse  which  so  few  of  us  are  able 
to  sing : 

We  thank  Thee  more  that  all  our  joy 

Is  touched  with  pain; 
That  shadows  fall  on  brightest  hours. 

That  thorns  remain; 
So  that  earth's  bliss  may  be  our  guide, 
•  And  not  our  chain. 

In  my  college  days  these  verses  used  to  provoke 
beyond  measure  the  great  man  who  presided  over 
our  studies.  He  was  never  weary  of  flinging 
scorn  on  them  and  of  ridiculing  the  people  who 
"  professed  to  be  fond  of  them."  In  an  expres- 
sion which  it  is  certain  he  would  have  denounced 


ACCEPTANCE    OF    THE    UNIVERSE     247 

in  the  logic  class  as  "  a  prejudice-raising  phrase," 
he  used  to  warn  us  against  the  "  exaggerated 
sentimentality  which  a  lot  of  silly  women  write." 
These  were  limitations  of  his  greatness ;  and  it 
has  needed  deeper  experience  of  life  and  actual 
acquaintance  with  living  saints  to  make  plain  to 
me,  at  least,  that  this  is  real  with  the  deepest 
reality  which  our  human  nature  can  know,  that 
the  bliss  is  real,  the  rapture  real,  that  these  are 
not  passing  moods,  but  the  settled,  abiding  joy 
of  exalted  natures  who  have  come  to  Him  and 
learned  of  Him,  and  found  His  yoke  easy  and 
His  burden  light. 

Let  me  ask  you:  Have  we  gained  anything  by 
our  coldly  critical  outlook  upon  the  religion  of 
Jesus.'*  It  is  ours  to  accept  the  universe,  not 
with  the  Stoic  strength  of  Epictetus  nor  the  half- 
heroic,  half  brutal  defiance  of  Henley,  but  with 
the  pure  joy  of  the  follower  of  Jesus.  And  if  in 
His  Name  and  His  Spirit  we  accept  all,  shall  we 
not  accept  it  with  whole-hearted,  glad  welcome, 
that  our  joy  may  be  full.? 

Perhaps  we  can  bring  this  consideration  nearer 
to  the  limits  of  the  practical  and  unsentimental, 
if  we  consider  the  acceptance  of  something  a  little 
less  than  the  universe.  Let  us  consider  each  in- 
dividual life,  not  In  relation  to  the  universe,  but  in 
relation  to  the  social  organism. 

There  are  four  possible  attitudes:  Self-asser- 
tion ;  Submission  ;  Expediency ;  Self-sacrifice. 

We  may  maintain  an  attitude  of  Self-assertion. 
This  is  conflict  without  glory.     It  is  the  brigand 


248  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

spirit  of  any  age.  Whether  amongst  the  moun- 
tain passes  in  the  Middle  Ages  or  on  the  Exchange 
to-day,  unmitigated  self-assertion  is  brigandage. 
Ruskin  compares  the  Baron  of  the  Crags  with 
the  Baron  of  the  Bags,  very  greatly  to  the  dis- 
advantage of  our  friend  the  Bag-baron.     In  the 

old  day 

They  carved  at  the  meal 
With  gloves  of  steel, 
And  they  drank  the  red  wine  thro'  the  helmet  barred. 

In  our  day 

The  good  old  rule 
Sufficeth  them,  the  simple  plan. 
That  they  should  take  who  have  the  power, 

And  they  should  keep  who  can. 

There  seems  no  mete  nor  bound  which  can  be  set 
to  this  incarnate  egoism.  And  the  end  is  always 
the  same :  "  For  love  of  self,  his  very  self  he  slew." 
And  the  divine  comment  always  is  "  Thou  Fool !  " 
At  the  antipodes  of  Self-assertion  is  Submis- 
sion. And  this  is  slavery.  This  is  the  account  of 
wrecked  and  broken  lives  which  strew  our  path. 
Here  are  the  men  who  have  "  gone  under."  They 
are  objects  of  our  pity,  more  than  of  our  condem- 
nation. They  have  submitted  to  circumstance, 
birth,  environment,  defects  of  will  and  taints  of 
blood.  They  have  submitted  to  the  evil  which  first 
woos,  then  threatens,  then  kills.  And  submitting, 
when  they  should  and  could  have  conquered,  they 
have  passed  to  a  deeper  slavery,  of  vice,  of  lust, 
of  sin,  which  seems  to  them  in  their  degradation  all 
that  remains.     It  is  sorrow  drowned  to  bring  new 


ACCEPTANCE    OF    THE    UNIVERSE     249 

sorrow.  And  the  man  who  pities,  loves,  and  fears, 
yet  refuses  to  despair,  looks,  longs,  and  prays 
for  the  cleansing,  saving  fires  of  hell. 

Between  the  extremes  of  Self-assertion  and 
Submission  is  another  possibility.  It  is  Expedi- 
ency.  And  this  is  death.  Never  yet  was  ex- 
pediency the  rule  of  life  for  man  or  nation. 
You  cannot  always  know  what  is  right.  But 
you  can  oftener  discover  what  is  right  than  you 
can  decide  what  is  expedient.  Life  is  played 
upon  by  so  many  currents  and  cross-currents,  that 
it  is  impossible  to  calculate  exactly  the  effect  of 
any  line  of  policy.  But  while  God  is  God  it  is 
always  right  to  do  right.  And  there  can  be  no 
world,  no  star,  no  universe,  where  it  is  not  best 
to  do  right  and  leave  the  issue  with  God.  Do 
that  which  is  not  expedient,  and  "  it  will  be  all 
the  same  a  hundred  years  hence ! "  But  do  that 
which  is  not  right,  and  eternity  itself  will  be 
needed  to  make  the  balance  level. 

The  one  possibility  which  remains  is  Self- 
sacrifice.  And  this  is  life  eternal.  Life  is  con- 
ceived of  as  a  sacred  trust,  to  be  employed  as 
the  great  Giver  directs.  Such  a  conception 
completes  and  sublimes  all  the  noble  thoughts 
of  the  Pagan  Saints.  We  are  saved  from  self- 
assertion,  for  there  is  no  self  left.  All  is  God's. 
Ambition,  desire,  will,  we  have  offered  to  Him. 
Brain  that  plans  and  ponders,  heart  that  yearns 
and  aspires,  time  and  all  that  we  can  crowd  into 
our  days,  wealth  and  all  that  we  possess — they 
are  ours  only  on  trust,  to  use  them  for  His  glory, 


250  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COWARD 

and  we  worship  God  by  serving  man.  We  are 
saved  from  submission  to  the  lower  impulses  of 
our  own  life  and  the  lower  temptings  of  fallen 
men ;  for  life  is  too  high,  too  holy,  too  great,  and 
solemn,  and  splendid  to  be  spent  on  anything  but 
the  things  of  God.  And  from  the  satanic  sug- 
gestions of  expediency  we  turn  with  profound 
disdain : 

'Tis  man's  perdition  to  be  safe. 
When  for  the  truth  he  ought  to  die! 

Brother,  take  the  yoke  of  Jesus!  It  is  a 
yoke,  and  you  feel  it  so — at  first.  But  it  will 
fit  kindly  to  the  part  on  which  it  presses — soon; 
and  His  burden  will  be  light.  I  think  I  know 
what  lies  behind  the  invitation  of  the  street- 
preacher,  "  Come  to  Jesus  !  Come  to  Him  now !  " 
You  are  not  invited  to  the  acceptance  of  state- 
ments about  Christ.  You  are  not  asked  to  give 
an  intellectual  assent  to  certain  propositions  con- 
cerning His  nature.  His  work,  or  His  kingdom. 
The  condition  of  modern  saintship  is  that  you  shall 
refer  all  the  concerns  of  your  life,  the  smallest, 
the  grandest,  to  the  Lord  Christ.  As  though  He 
were  by  your  side,  as  though  you  could  talk 
with  Him,  as  though  you  could  see  the  smile 
of  His  approval  and  hear  the  whisper  of  His 
"  Well  done,"  as  though  you  felt  the  touch  of 
His  kind  hand  upon  you  when  you  shook  with 
pain  or  trembled  with  fear  or  sank  beneath  your 
heavy  load — felt  His  hand  upon  you  and  took 
heart  of  hope  again — so  refer  your  life  to  Him, 


ACCEPTANCE    OF    THE    UNIVERSE     251 

talk  to  Him — with  words  or  without — of  your 
troubles,  your  hopes,  and  your  fears.  Take  His 
yoke  upon  you  and  learn  of  Him,  for  He  is  meek 
and  lowly  of  heart,  and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto 
your  souls.  He  is  our  Peace.  And  with  Him 
we  overcome  the  world.  It  is  a  world  of  tumult 
and  tempest,  of  temptation  and  trial,  of  fightings 
without  and  fears  within,  of  conflict  which  no 
mortal  can  escape.  It  is  a  world  in  which  strong 
men  are  beaten  down  and  proud  ones  humbled, 
where  human  hearts  are  crushed  and  love  lies 
bleeding,  where  Rachael  mourns  for  her  children 
and  will  not  be  comforted,  because  they  are  not. 
It  is  a  world  where  God  seems  deaf  to  our  crying 
and  blind  to  our  needs !  Nay ;  but  it  is  a  world 
which  God  Himself  has  prepared  for  His  children, 
a  world  into  which  we  are  cast,  as  into  an  alembic, 
to  be  cleansed,  purified,  saved  by  strife  and  suffer- 
ing, by  service  and  sacrifice;  where  God  reigns  in 
love,  controls,  guides,  brings  order  out  of  chaos, 
light  out  of  darkness,  peace  out  of  pain,  and  doeth 
all  things  well.  It  is  a  world  which  fits  us  for 
larger  service  with  ampler  powers  in  a  grander 
universe,  and  for  diviner  joys  which  our  enfran- 
chised souls  shall  share  with  those  who  walk  with 
God.  Accept  the  universe !  Accept  it  as  God's, 
your  Father's,  and  your  own!    Yours  to  enjoy 

With  a  propriety  which  none  can  feel. 
But  who,  with  filial  confidence  inspired. 
Can  lift  to  heaven  an  unpresumptuous  eye, 
And  smiling  say,  "  My  Father  made  it  all  I " 


FOR  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE 


The  Simple  Things  of  the  Christian  Life " 

i6mo.   Cloth,   soc  net.  G.  CAMPBELL  MORGAN 

As  indicated  by  the  title,  the  author  here  deals  with 
commonplace  experiences.  The  New  Birth,  Holiness,  Growth, 
Work,  Temptation.  But  by  no  means  commonplace  is  the 
treatment  of  the  themes.  In  that  lucid  and  convincing  style 
of  which  he  is  master,  the  author  charms  as  he  instructs  and 
inspires. 


Anecdotes  and  Illustrations 

R.  A.  TORREY 

"    Illustrated,  lamo,  Qoth,  75c  net;  Paper,  35c  net. 

The  value  of  apt  illustration  can  hardly  be  overestimated. 
It  is  oftentimes  the  entering  wedge  or  the  clinching  conclu- 
sion for  the  more  serious  argument;  at  times  it  is  both. 
This  collection  of  stories,  drawn  largely  from  the  wide  and 
varied  experience  of  the  author  have  added  largely  to  the 
eflfective  ministry  of  his  powerful  addresses. 


The  Listening  Heart 

i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.00  net.  JOHN  A.  KERN 

A   book    of    Devotional    Interpretation    by    the    professor 
of  practical  theology  in  Vanderbilt  University. 


The  Practice  of  Prayer 

i2mo.   Cloth,  7SC  net.  Q,  CAMPBELL  MORGAN 

The  aim  of  this  book  is  purely  practical.  "Teach  us  to 
pray"  is  taken  to  mean  not  teach  us  how,  but  teach  us  the 
habit  of  prayer.  "Any  discussion,"  says  the  preface,  "of 
the  doctrine  of  prayer  which  does  not  issue  in  the  practice 
of  prayer  is  not  only  not  helpful,  it  is  dangerous."  The 
work  is  a  serious  effort  to  make  more  universal  the  "Morn- 
ing Watch,"  the  "Still  Hour"  and  the  family  prayer  circle. 

The  Daily  Altar 

Cloth,  25c  net;  Leather,  350  net.  J.  H.  JOWETT 

A  companion  to  the  popular  "Yet  Another  Day,"  giv- 
ing a  very  brief  prayer  for  each  day  in  the  year. 

The  Second  Coming  of  Christ 

i6mo.  Cloth,  SCO  net.  LEN  G.  BROUGHTON 


PASTORAL  PROBLEMS 


An  Efficient  Church 

.With   an  introduction   by  Bishop   Earl    OfaiTStCTi,   LX.   D., 
i2mo,  Cloth,  $i.2S  net.  CARL  GREGG  DONEY 

This  book  is  one  of  the  first  fruits  of  the  science  of 
Psychology  in  the  sphere  of  the  modern  pastorate.  His 
conclusions  are  drawn  from  a  prolonged  process  of  close 
questioning  of  a  great  number  of  students,  laymen  and 
ministers.  He  presents  data  gathered  at  first  hand  and 
works  with  the  clear,  fearless  spirit  of  the  trained  mind. 
He  opens  up  the  pathway  to  methods  of  working  and  teach- 
ing in  the  modern  religious  congregation  that  will  upset 
some  old  ideals,  but  cannot  fail  to  give  every  alert  religious 
worker  a  fresh   inspiration  and  a  new  hope. 

Preacher    Problems    or  The  Twentieth  century 

Treacher  at  Kis  Work. 
i2mo,  Cloth,  $1.50  net.  WILLIAAl  T.  MOORE 

There  is  very  much  about  the  actual  operation  of  a  pro- 
fession that  is  not  touched  by  the  Colleges  and  the  Schools, 
and  even  after  much  experience  the  minister  will  find  him- 
self confronting  a  situation  for  which  he  has  no  data  to 
guide  him.  This  book  is  an  adviser  for  the  minister  young 
or  old;  advice  from  a  long  experience  and  guided  by  the 
sanest  spirit.  The  author's  fifty-years  experience  as  author, 
editor,  instructor  and  pastor,  gives  his  conclusions  great  value 

The  Doctrine  of  the  Ministry: 

Outlines  based  on  Luthardt  and  Kranth. 
i2mo.  Cloth,  7SC  net.  REVERE  FRANKLIN  WElDNER 

This  work  is  the  result  and  growth  of  twenty-five  years 
discussion  in  the  class  room,  and  though  professedly  based 
on  Luthardt  and  Krauth  and  containing  every  word  of 
Luthardt's  presentation  it  is  much  more  than  a  translation, 
as  Luthardt  does  not  devote  more  than  ten  pages  in  his 
works  to  this  theme,  and  Krauth  would  not  cover  a  score  of 
papers.  Dr.  Weidner,  President  of  the  Chicago  Lutheran 
Seminary,  may  therefore  well  claim   full  authorship. 


THE  SUNDAY  SCHOOL 


The  Modern  Sunday  School  in  Principle 

and    Practice     ^^'  ^^  Modem  school  and  Its  Educational 

i2mo,   Cloth,  $1.00  net.  HENRY  F.  COPE 

By  the  General  Secretary  of  tlie  Religious  Education 
Association.  He  presents  the  results  of  all  the  newest 
experiments  both  with  primary,  adolescent  and  adult  grades. 
So  clear  and  simple  is  his  presentation,  that  this  book  will 
be  a  revelation  to  many. 


NEW  EDITIONS 


Quiet  Talks  on  Service 

i6mo,   Cloth,   75c  net.  S.  D.  GORDON 

As  a  third  volume  in  a  series  of  "Quiet  Talks"  upon 
the  elements  of  the  Christian  Life,  this  volume  will  find  a 
ready  welcome  from  the  hundreds  of  thousands  who  have 
read  and  re-read,  either  in  their  original  form  or  in  their 
many  translations,  "Quiet  Talks  on  Power"  and  "Quiet 
Talks  on  Prayer,"  the  earlier  works  by  Mr.  Gordon.  The 
sequence  of  "power,"  "prayer"  and  "service"  suggests  the 
possibilities  of  this  trinity  of  spiritual   forces. 

By_  the  author  of  Quiet  Talks  on  Power  and  Prayer  and 
Service. 

The  Transfiguration  of  Christ 

i2mo,  Cloth,  $1.00  net.  FRANK  W.  QUNSAULUS 

Dealing  with  the  deeper  truths  embodied  in  the  crisis 
of  our  Lord's  transfiguration.  Dr.  Gunsaulus  knows  how 
to  follow  a  ray  of  truth  straight  to  the  spot  of  human  life 
that  it  best  illuminates. 


My  Spiritual  Autobiography, 

or  How  I  Discovered  the  Unselfishness  of  God. 

HANNAH  WHITALL  SMITH 

Iftw  Edition.    12mo,  Cloth,  $1.00  net. 

"Those  who  have  read  and  rejoiced  over  "The  Chris- 
tian's Secret  of  a  Happy  Life"  will  need  no  further  recom- 
mendation of  this  book.  To  those  aspiring  after  the  higher 
Christian  possibilities  we  recommend  this  book  as  being 
distinctly  helpful." — Church  Economist. 


Foretokens  of  Immortality 

New  Edition.      Studies  "for  the   hour  when   the   immortal 
hope  burns  low  in  the  heart.". w- 

i2mo,   Cloth,  soc  net.  NEWELL  DWIGHT  HILLIS 

"It  is  a  book  that  lifts  us  out  of  our  narrow  view,  and 
gives  us  the  broad  landscape,  across  which  the  narrow  river 
of  death  flows  as  an  insignificant  stream,  lifts  our  eyes  from 
the  clods  of  the  open  grave  to  the  wide  expanse  of  sunlight, 
which  falls  to  and  beyond  the  limit  of  our  vision." — The 
Interior. 

Loyalty:  The  Soul  of  Religion 

i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.00  net.  JAMES  G.  K.  McCLURB 

"Dr.  McClure  sets  forth  the  idea  with  a  clearness  not 
surpassed  in  literature,  and  in  a  great  variety  of  illustra- 
tion, argument  and  appeal — a  great  book  to  give  to  a  young 
man  of  the  college  type.  It  takes  him  as  he  is  and  takes 
hold  of  best  possibilitka  ia  him." — N,  Y,  Observer, 


NEW  EDITIONS 


The  Philosophy  of  Christian  Experience 

i2mo,  Cloth,   $i.2S   net.  HENRY  W.  CLARK 

Marcus  Dods  in  the  "British  Weekly"  says:  "Not  twice 
in  a  generation  does  one  meet  with  so  valuable  an  analysis 
of  experimental  religion.  *  *  *  As  fresh  as  if  no  one  had 
ever  written  of  religion  before." 

New  Life  in  the  Old  Prayer  Meeting 

i2mo,  Cloth,  $1.00  net.  JOHN  F.  COWAN 

"Two  hundred  and  thirty  pages  of  the  soundest  com- 
mon sense.  The  book  is  an  honest  consideration  of  what  is 
a  real  problem  to  nearly  every  minister." — Record  of  Chris- 
tian Work. 

How  to  Conduct  a  Sunday  School 

$1.25  net.  MARION  LAWRANCE 

"Packed  full  of  useful  information.  Filled  with  de- 
tails, specific  and  practical,  for  which  a  host  of  workers 
have  longed  and  prayed.  The  book  gives  the  cream  of  life 
long  experience  and  observation." — The  Examiner. 

The  Twentieth  Century  New  Testament 

Substantial  Cloth  Binding,  $i.po  net;  Leather  Bindings, 
$1.50   net,  $2.00  net,  $3.50  net. 

Translates  the  New  Testament  direct  from  the  Greek 
into  the  plainest  English  of  our  times.  Every  passage  is 
rendered  clear  as  sunlight.  Revised  and  completed  after 
thirteen   years  labor  of  twenty  great   scholars. 

"Put  into  the  language  that  we  speak  every  day — plain 
language — it  comes  to  one  with  new  and  added  power — a 
fresh,  lacy  translation  of  narrative,  or  an  exact  and  luminous 
translation  of  exposition.  It  is  zvell  that  the  most  sacred  of 
books  can  now  be  comprehended  by  the  plainest  man."— 
Chicago  Record-Herald. 


Esperanto  Students*  Handy  Text  Book 

New  Revised  Edition  of  1907,  Cloth,  soc  net. 

"The  late  Prof.  Max  Muller  pronounced  Esperanto  the 
best  of  all  attempts  to  create  an  international  langxiage.  It 
has  already  gained  considerable  vogue,  and  is  attracting 
public  attention  in  England  as  well  as  on  the  continent. 
There  are  at  least  ten  periodicals  published — chiefly  in  France 
— for  the  propagation  of  the  new  language."— C/tkraM  Record- 
Werald, 


Date  Due 

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